A Work In Progress
by crescit eundo
Summary: This wasn't supposed to happen; not to him. Yet with the delivery of one little miracle, the world of Kiku Honda is burst open into a bloom of love, discovery, and triumph. Greece/Japan, mpreg, with America and others rounding out the supporting cast.
1. Chapter 1

( A story I've got going on Livejournal; I figured my followers on would like to see it too. c: )

* * *

In Greece, it was warm; an afternoon for going wading in the ocean, going out canoeing or fishing or viewing old forgotten ruins in Knossos, in Sparta. Maybe even just napping in Greece's newly fixed hammock, out in the forgiving bubble sunshine. There the cats would curl up, content to lay beneath the warmth of two bodies pressed close together.

But no - it was also an afternoon for making love on Greece's (blessedly thick) bed, the gauzy blue bedroom curtains billowing in the occasional ocean breeze. Salt and sweat rose in the air, stirred by the lazy white ceiling fan rotating above.

Greece was running his tongue down the smooth hill of Japan's hipbone when his half-lidded eyes floated up; they met the dizzy dark hues of his lover. He smiled softly, rubbing the other's erection with one hand, the fleshy side of his hip with the other.

"Do you love me... Kiku?" he asked after a moment, liking how Japan's human name felt on his tongue. It felt just a little taboo, calling him that, like he was a fairy who would be forever bound to him because his name was spoken - not that Heracles would mind that sort of fate, but.

Kiku just smiled gently, almost tiredly. "I... would like to think so."

And so together, they lit up, a smoldering flame of a love that was nothing but free.

* * *

Heracles rolled off his lover, trying to get his breath back. With the towel that he was sloppily handed, Kiku, as always, cleaned himself, and Greece, and what he could of the sheets, a placid housewife smile on his still-red face. Greece liked to joke that Kiku really only unwound after orgasm; Japan always scolded him for mentioning such private, intimate things in public (It was never outside the Greek's walls, but then again neighbors could easily hear).

Once breath was caught and Kiku was wrapped in his usual loose white yukata, the two tangled comfortably together again. They stared at the low ceiling, like the stars could be found there.

"I wish... I had a cigarette." Heracles murmured, pointing up to his favorite spot in the popcorn ceiling, the fortunate scatter of plaster that looked like the Seven Sisters. He made a different wish every time; they were always ridiculous, in some way or another, like this one. Greece knew full well that Japan rarely tolerated his nasty little habit - he hated smelling like the smoke, as if it was a brand on his forehead.

Eventually the two fell asleep, content and happy. When Greece's hand came up to rest on Kiku's chest (over his heart), the latter didn't mind; but when Heracles woke up he would be gone, back home, to sit and think and fret.

When Greece would wake up, he would find himself alone - against what he really wished for whenever he saw the ceiling Sisters. After a moment of unprocessed thought he would get up too, pull some pants on, make coffee and throw the bedthings in the washer, all the while wondering how he really felt about his sometimes-lover.

He never failed to wish for more.


	2. Chapter 2

It was two in the afternoon on a Sunday when Japan called. Greece had just gotten back from a neighbor's house, where they'd met for lunch after church - he was loosening his tie and thinking about mixing a drink when he heard the shrill ring of the phone and rushed to pick it up. It was rare for someone to call at that hour, so he figured that it _had_ to be some form of important.

And so it was. Before Greece could get a friendly greeting in, Japan was talking - no, more like demanding - so unlike him...

"Did you use a condom?"

"... what?"

"Did you use a condom? Last week?"

Greece searched his memory - oh, yes. That was a damn good time, but he remembered very clearly that he did _not _use a condom. He said so, feeling very much like the kid who ruined the one thing he was most certainly _not _supposed to ruin.

Judging by the string of curses Japan muttered, it was bad; Greece _had _ruined the precious thing. But what was it? It wasn't Japan's virginity, nor was it his clothing or dignity or anything...

But there was no time to ask; the other hung up before Greece could even open his mouth to speak.

* * *

"It will be okay. It will _be_ okay. It. Will. Be. Okay."

For a few moments, the mantra worked; taking deep breaths and chanting it over and over, like the meditations Laos had taught him, the four words seemed to form a balm. The jagged edges of Kiku's nerves were temporarily soothed. He sat on the tatami mat of the main room in his home, trying not to look at the pages spread in a fan out in front of him. In his mind, at that moment, they seemed to form a particularly lovely sort of noose.

"... _What_ will be okay?"

Startled at the light feminine voice, Japan rushed to collect himself (and the papers- those, he flipped over to hide), to smooth his hair, adjust his clothes. Even if it was just two of his close sisters come to visit, he had a face to maintain.

Vietnam didn't look too impressed, what with her flat-held eyebrows and the half-empty cup of boba tea at her lips; Taiwan looked flustered, as always, like she was too sick with anxiousness to drink the boba in her hands but was anyway. She was the one who had heard Kiku, and asked.

Japan wondered, for a moment, why they were there, until he remembered - right. They had called to say that they were in the neighborhood, thought they'd drop by and say hi before going out in Taipei for the night... and they didn't seem to appreciate the fine art of Knocking Before You Enter Japan's Home. Nobody did, really, yet still Kiku upheld the protest that it be observed; it was the principle of the thing.

"Well?" Vietnam asked after a few beats of silence, one eyebrow raised. Japan'd forgotten how much of a, well... _big sister _Vietnam was, how nosy she could be when it concerned the lives of her technically-adopted siblings. When combined, Taiwan and Vietnam were a force of unforgetting nosy sisters, who by default Kiku obliged to tell the truth to most all the time.

"N-nothing. I just ... visited the doctor again today." which was the truth, though not one that he would elaborate on. Immediately, the color drained from Taiwan's face and rose in Vietnam's. They asked in unison: "what's wrong?"

"They don't know yet." A little white lie; he knew _exactly _what was wrong, he'd gone to the office a few days prior. This morning, he'd just gone to get the results of said visit. He just... well, he didn't know exactly what he was going to do about those, yet. Better not get anyone excited, just in case.

"Well, do you _feel _okay?" Kiku nodded a little. He could easily ignore the nausea and backaches to put on a facade of full health, no doubt. He was a good actor. "Nothing that won't be better in a matter of a week or so, i'm sure."

Vietnam, though she didn't look too convinced, just nodded and told him the same thing she always did; to call her for anything, to let her come over and cook and liven up his home a little, and also that at the first sign that his health was taking a turn for the worse, he should tell her immediately. The latter he would do, in any case at all. His elder sister was well-trained medically, one of the best out of all the nations, and one of the few people he trusted besides that.

Taiwan chattered softly about her eternal worry for his health, different remedies she knew (that she _did not _learn from China, thank you!), and that he could call her, too; was he sure that it wasn't a cold or a sign of a down-turning economy or anything?

After reassuring the two that he would call, eat more and take walks – though he said nothing when Vietnam sternly instructed him to _not eat any more salted salmon! _– Japan politely got them out of the door and sighed in relief when he heard nothing but an empty home. Not even Pochi-kun was making much noise; he must've been asleep in his bed in the laundry room, at the back of the home.

Silence, order, peace, calm, the gentle rhythm of his life. Everything Japan loved best was at his toes. After considering for a moment, he went to go make some tea and ponder the clouds, alone.

* * *

It is rare for a nation to become pregnant, whether they are male or female. Circumstances have to be pretty much perfect.

It is rarer still for both parents to agree to keep and raise the child; horrible as it seems, most don't have the time, or interest, to raise a child. Forever is a long time to be a parent.

But it is rarest of all for a nation's baby to survive to full term, to be born healthy and truly wanted. The infant in the womb depends not only on being cared for by its mother, but on the prosperity of both its parent nations. Half the time an infant is miscarried or stillborn because of economic problems or scandals that flare up and die down about as quick as flames lit by stone and flint.

* * *

Greece was supremely confused. First Japan had called, given no formalities, demanded answers of him, and hung up – so spookily unlike the other that Greece was starting to doubt whether it was Kiku at all. But then again, if it was a prankster, they were very good at sounding like Japan. And they knew of their sex life, too, or perhaps they were just a very good guesser…

He was folding his laundry, placidly admiring the snap and smell of the towels and thinking about whether he should rearrange the potted ferns when, from somewhere deep inside the miniature labyrinth that was his home, the phone rang. Having been jittery and curious all day, he (in a very Greece-like manner) leapt up to grab it, though not before a wild search. He finally found the darn thing in the second sitting room, of all places, and on the very last beat of the final ring.

Sinking into the wicker chair underneath the window, he tried to act casual as he answered. "… Hello?"

There was silence on the other end before Japan spoke. Greece's heart tried to decide whether or not it appreciated that voice right then.

"Greece-san; moshi moshi. I apologize for my… particularly rude behavior earlier; it was improper and uncivilized." Greece had nodded casually when he realized that nodding doesn't carry well over the phone – before he could get a word in though, Japan had hesitantly gone on speaking.

"And I suppose this may be rude, too, it's on such short notice, but… I was wondering if perhaps, you would like to meet sometime, for dinner? On me, of course. Does tonight work? …Good. Alright. I will see you then; thank you for your time, Greece-san. Sayonara."

* * *

The restaurant was a cubbyhole, some place in Tokyo where the chairs and tables were all metal and the floors were white stone, but the waitresses wore fluorescent-colored T-shirts and tight black pants, too cool and busy to pay attention to any conversations.

Japan ordered for the both of them, not wanting to draw attention to his disheveled-looking companion; Greece, however, to his credit, had done his very best to look good for the meeting. He even bothered to attempt to tie his tie, despite the fact that he could not (in any way), and it ended up just looking like an awkward bump sitting at his throat. And it wasn't exactly his fault that his hair decided, very much unlike Kiku's, to act up – especially at the most _inopportune _times.

"So." When Heracles finally spoke, it seemed to snap Kiku out of some sort of trance; his pale cheeks were pink, his thumb was trembling. It was simply a matter of time before some sort of bomb would be dropped, the Greek could tell _that _for sure. He wondered why it would be here, though, in a place humming with quiet conversations, made too cold by air conditioning and modern décor. Didn't huge news have to be told in person?

They made careful (but unavoidably pleasant, what with Heracles being the socialite he could be) small talk, though, until their food arrived; Greece's worried pondering would have to wait until Japan could work up the balls to speak.

The Greek was in the middle of biting into the last piece of inarizushi when Japan took a deep breath and blurted it, the way he had practiced a hundred times, in perfect Greek: "Mr. Greece, I invited you here tonight, not only to apologize for my rude behavior on the phone this morning, but to tell you something of urgent importance to the both of us."

He looked away, red and unreadable as a sunrise, trying not to let his whole body shake along with the thud of his heart, before turning back and coming out with it – though not in as brave and forward a way as he'd practiced.

"I went to the doctor a few days ago, and they told me that… I… a - am… with…" he squeezed his eyes closed, as if the one fate-sealing word was just too much to speak. "Child. Y - yours, actually."

Greece chewed and swallowed the bite of food, admiring the exotic taste and not thinking of anything else. Japan stared in complete anxiety and fear as the other put his chopsticks down carefully, and calmly regarded him.

"Really?" The look on Greece's face had melted into that of utter disbelief. Surely not _Japan, _not with _him, _not not not. This wasn't the kind of thing that happened to him. No, Greece fell while going up the steps, he got pickpocketed, and cut, and captured in wars. He did not get his friends knocked up. Especially not friends like _Japan_.

"Y-yes, _really._ A-and since I… am not in a place to… ahem… _keep _this child, I suppose I am searching for your permission to…"

"N-no!" Greece suddenly half-shouted, effectively silencing a few nearby conversations for a second or two, and_ completely_ mortifying Japan; he didn't realize how loud he was in this country, how foreign, how _passionate, _compared to everyone else.

"_What_?"

Greece just shook his head slowly, sitting back down. "Y-you can't do that… It won't make it anyway… Something… is bound to go wrong… why not give it all the chances… that you can?" His voice was more rational then, calm, a doctor discussing all your options.

He was not a doctor, though, detached and smooth. Something – something raw and animal (but perfectly human) – had burned through him upon hearing that Japan just wanted to _get rid of the problem. _Perhaps it was the Orthodox Greek in him, or just the man who couldn't stand to see small kittens sitting in boxes on curbs, unclaimed, but he couldn't bear the thought of this child… _his _child, being completely denied life. Death would happen anyway, why execute it yourself?

Japan, on the other hand, just sat there, dumbstruck. He'd expected Heracles to want whatever he wanted; _not_ for him to make a scene in public and then practically beg to give the seedling a chance.

"I know… that you have a heart, Kiku…" Heracles murmured. "Have it. Give something… completely defenseless… an honest shot at life. Please. For me."

* * *

Kiku really had to wonder why he didn't just give in and get a western bed, but something stubborn in him just couldn't let go of his three-inch-thick mattress – or maybe the comfort and security he attached to beds like Greece's were because of that man, himself.

It was a bruised, humid night, and not even the stars wiggled out of their places to shine in the sky. Heracles and Kiku lay drowsy on the former's bed, spooning, Greece's hands flat against Japan's (quite normal-looking) stomach.

They murmured together, talking about everything that _was not _the most important at hand – they spent the time in silence, too. Cats curled around them, purring contentedly, tail tips swishing in the darkness.

Finally, as the moon rose and sat in the window above the bed, illuminating the two in its pale haunted light, Greece pressed his eyes into the roll of Kiku's shoulder.

"please." He murmured humbly, knowing that the other would know exactly what he was talking about. Judging by how Kiku suddenly froze, he did.

Silence stretched out and Greece's heart sank low. "I-I mean… if you decide to do it anyway, I'll take… responsibility and pay, but…"

Even longer the silence spread. Heracles was about to write Kiku off as asleep, or not interested, when the other spoke. It was so quiet that the Greek had to listen very hard to hear him properly.

"Okay. We will see… what happens… I will not go through with it."

Two hearts were set to wild thudding once those words were spoken. Greece's was giddy with excitement and anxiousness; love for Kiku and soon-to-be for his baby, too. Japan's was heavy with trepidation, not wanting to see Greece's heart broken; they were waiting for his whole world to open up and completely change, forever.


	3. Chapter 3

Two months in and everything, for the most part, had gone well. A visit to a (very confused but still kindly) doctor showed that the baby was growing normally; though both parents had their breaths held, praying that the rest of the time would be a calm ocean. Greece had already grown attached to the little bundle, grinning when he thought of the fact that it had all of its organs, even fingerprints.

Japan, well, he wasn't really quite sure how he felt yet. Everything was so completely new, so foreign… It was like being opened up to the world once more. Throughout his daily routines he might stop to think – _that vase is different because I am pregnant,_ or, _someday that outlet might be plugged for the child's safety,_ or, _I wonder how I will tell the rest of the world._ Despite everything, all of his efforts, he too was becoming attached to the idea of a child.

They were both starts, very good starts, sparks for a firestorm.

* * *

America had been slurping on the slushee he bought at the 7-11 (at two AM, no less, but that particular wonder of the United States was nothing that Kiku wasn't used to) when Japan "casually" slipped the fact into their conversation.

"Y-you're _what?_" the younger had stammered, not completely blind to the facts of being a nation; it was more like he was completely shocked that Japan, well – "I didn't even think you'd ever have sex! I mean, all that porn, dude! I figured it was all because you're lonely and horny! … Whaaaaat? Who's the father? Wait. _Wait._ Don't tell me it's Artie! … it's not? Good! Well? Who is it?"

Kiku blinked, took a breath. Alfred's rants were always supremely stressful for him. "It is… It is Greece." He mumbled, flushing red and avoiding Alfred's eyes.

"Dude."

Kiku blinked, looked up to gauge the other's reaction. He looked… really, _really_ happy, for some reason.

"I LOVE THAT GUY! HE'S MY FAVORITE! OH MY GOD!"

"… N-nani…?"

"Well, not my _favorite_. We watch movies and talk and drink beer together, like, all the time! And he makes me food and hits me and teaches me about philosophy! This is great! WE'RE HAVING A BABY, KIKU, AREN'T YOU EXCITED?"

About to hiss something about people _hearing, dammit,_ America just shook his head, taking his friend's arm cheerily. "This is _New York,_ man, at three in the morning! Nobody gives a shit!"

"Well… Wh-where are we going?"

"On an adventure."

* * *

After a few hours of running around, bumping into drunk, fuzzy-haired blondes and addicts on the latest high; after they bought a plastic hula girl and a can of tuna at some sort of all-night store run by a very nice man in a bright yellow shirt, they collapsed on the curb in front of an art gallery belonging to someone who, Alfred assured Kiku, was his friend. "He'll open up for us soon! We can catch naps under the sculptures and then go get bagels and eat the tuna for breakfast!"

Kiku, busy on his DS, just shook his head and clucked his tongue absently. Though he didn't mind the all-nighters he tended to pull with Alfred, he figured that maybe it was about time to learn to take responsibility and really start caring for his body and the baby inside. One last time, though, couldn't hurt a bit.

In an attempt to get comfortable enough to get some sleep, America stretched out in the gutter, sighing with contentment; it was a rather warm night, for early June. Japan rested his feet on the other's outstretched legs, content in the warmth and odd security of the morning. Silence stretched out between them as Alfred drifted in between sleep and not-sleep, and Japan intently trained his Mareep.

"So, Mister… Wise Old Man…" Alfred yawned after a while, rolling over a little – he was using his old leather jacket as a pillow. "What… do you think is gonna happen, with that little bastard inside of 'ya?"

"I…" Kiku gnawed his lip gently, wondering that himself. He knew what he _hoped_ would happen, and he knew what he _wanted_ to happen, but being realistic…

"I really do not know, Alfred-kun… time will tell. Though I certainly hope that… all will go well…"

"Heh." Alfred laughed softly, his grin pale in the dusk light. "You look… healthy, though, I think… I mean, if I was pregnant, I'd want to look like you. Do you even have a little bumpy?"

Kiku nodded, remembering how he'd spent an hour just looking in the mirror before he jumped in the shower that morning – though his hips were still sharp as usual, the gentle slope of his stomach was a little unexpected. Usually he looked like a malnourished child, or a young man who worked out but didn't eat properly at all; usually his stomach was very flat.

"It's only ever successfully happened once or twice, though, y'know."

"Hm?"

"Us having babies!"

And that was true. The most infamous pregnancy was that which happened to South Italy. His was with Argentina, when he was still so young, barely seventeen, and Spain was always away; Gino was the first baby to not only survive to birth and grow up a healthy child, but the first (and only) to become his own independent, lasting nation.

Most often the nations who were 'children' of their elders or empires were born of their own lands, looking like their supposed parents; they were always found and raised like precious things. So despite his crabby exterior, the Italian had done his absolute best to care for his child, mostly alone, and it seemed to have worked (at least semi-successfully). Argentina still liked to complain about his mama every now and then, though. But what kind of child doesn't?

After pondering that for a moment, Japan shook his head slowly – he realized instantly that it was how Greece did it. "Nobody has kept a child, or… at least, the fetuses don't make it very far past three months. This is not a time of war, Alfred. I am not going to rid myself of the baby, either. Like I said: time will tell, and _only_ time."

America blinked; then chuckled in an almost 'oh, you!' (or perhaps and ironic) way. "God, you're a stubborn bastard, aren't 'cha?"

"I take pride in the fact."

"Good luck to everyone who's gonna protest this!" the younger chortled; Kiku stiffened. He'd forgotten about the others…

"Wh-what do you mean by that?"

America cracked an eye open, looking up at his friend in surprise. "Well, you didn't think they'd just… _be happy_ for 'ya, didja? There're gonna be pissed off old ones at your door, preaching the word that, oh… your baby will be the nation that brings everyone else down! Also, nobody really will know what to get 'cha for your baby shower."

"I…" Kiku could not speak, damn his good imagination! He instantly saw images of people shunning him and Heracles, shunning the child… despite how much Japan hated it, he didn't want to go through with such a new, different thing, with only a support team of two or three people. To have the rest of the world against him- literally- would be nothing short of a horror story.

"But don't worry. I'm in your corner. There'll be a _lot_ more friends comin' out at 'cha than you'll know what to do with... but then, probably a lot of new enemies, too. Just remember. I'll always be here, and Greece'll always be there. You're _never_ alone, bro."


	4. Chapter 4

"… You're scared?" Greece mumbled, turning a tomato over in his hand carefully. The two were stuck in the middle of a crowd at some Saturday Market in Seattle; originally they'd gone with America, but then he ran off, claiming that he had someone to meet and that it was _very important that he go, right now_. Though the elder nations could plainly see he just wanted them to have some alone time (or whatever notion the latest romantic comedy had inspired in him), they accepted the story and went on having the calm, nice time that they'd been trying to have before Alfred left. They both loved the boy dearly, but the fact that he was deathly afraid of quiet was quite disconcerting to the both of them.

So for the past few hours the two half-busied themselves, watching the men throw their catch around at the fish market, looking at handmade goddess jewelry sold by some very nice-looking lesbians; Kiku bought something (for Hungary, to whom he owed some small, obscure debt) that they couldn't figure the exact use of – it was too big to be a bracelet but too small to be a necklace. After buying grilled fish on skewers and some very American-style doughnuts, they decided they might as well pick up some fresh produce with which to make dinner that night. It'd be a sort of farewell gift to Alfred, before the two left for their respective homes.

And thus Greece was inspecting tomatoes for salad when Japan had piped up softly, saying something in (his fast-improving) Greek about his recent inner turmoil. That was no small feat, either. Talking about _emotions_? And in _public_? Very close to impossible.

"Y-yes…" Kiku pretended to look over some sunflowers set up in a long clay jar next to the crate of tomatoes. His thoughts floated to Russia for a moment, before fleeing back to the subject at hand. "A-alfred-kun mentioned that… people might not approve of us… you know… going though with this. That they might worry a new… uhum, _one of us_, might come of it."

Heracles turned, and was pleasantly surprised by the fact that his love's hand had drifted up to his belly, almost protectively. He decided not to mention it, lest Kiku take the hand away. It was such a sweet sort of gesture…

"Well…" He thought for a moment, paying for the tomatoes he had chosen. "I don't doubt… that there will be those who… oppose the decision. But… they can't do anything… not really. It's highly… impossible, really… that the child will be a… new nation… conditions just… aren't right."

Kiku, after checking quickly to make sure nobody had heard Greece use the word 'nation' in context to themselves – nobody seemed to have – just nodded absently, picking a red-stained sunflower and paying for it. The two moved on to a stall full of delicious-looking apples in thoughtful silence.

"Who…" Heracles broke the silence after a while – by then they were standing in front of a vendor, whose table was completely overrun by flowers, of all types, colors, and shapes. They made Japan think of his eldest sister, Vietnam. She absolutely loved flowers – especially poppies (and lotuses).

"Who… do you think… would oppose us… and… be _with_ us…?"

"Ah. I am not really sure. I suppose China-san would not be happy with it, as well as England. You know how cruel he was to those who were unlucky enough to be under his rule and accidentally with child…" he shook his head, sighing for those aforementioned colonies.

"But I do know that Taiwan-chan would not oppose me, in any case. I am not sure about Vietnam-chan…" Kiku then looked like he himself had fallen into a thinking spell, one of those that Greece was so prone to.

"Hmmm…"

"Well, do we even have to worry about it at this time?" Japan looked down at himself for a moment – really, his bump was nothing that couldn't be concealed easily. He'd just have to get used to dark clothes… and, well, the sickness and cravings and soreness could be somewhat ignored. If anything, they could just be blamed on Hay Fever, bouts of sicknesses of the like.

Greece shook his head slowly, a slow smile easing onto his face. He had a poppy pressed in between his thumb and forefinger.

"No, but I… do know that… you've got some certain… women to break the news to…"

* * *

"What."

Taiwan looked like the stereotype of shocked- wide eyes, color-drained face, stiff posture.

"Y-you're _what_? Gods, Kiku! Why didn't you tell me earlier? Three months is such a long time to keep it a secret from me! What if I did something to compromise the baby? Oh, I'm _sure_ that shrimp can't be good for a fetus…" she lifted her long silk sleeve to her mouth, fretting quietly to herself.

Kiku, a notorious failure when it came to women, just sat there, unsure of what to do or say. _Why did I tell Heracles-kun to stay home?_ He wondered desperately to himself. Somehow, no matter what, Greece always knew exactly what to do, or say. Even (especially) when it came to women…

Vietnam and her two sisters, on the other hand, had said nothing. The aforementioned eldest, Vietnam, looked contemplative – Cambodia, the second-eldest, looked kind of disgusted – and Laos, the youngest, looked nothing but excited.

Turning his politely intense attention from Taiwan to the three others, Japan cleared his throat a little and asked what they all thought. He was braced for a bitter welcome.

"That's so _great_!" Laos cheered instantly. Being young herself, she was more than excited to hear the possibility that there could be someone to play with – someone who wasn't old and philosophical and obsessed with ugly art, like the rest of her siblings (and adopted siblings).

Cambodia stayed quiet, knowing that anything she could say would spark a storm of argument between her and her sisters. Pretty much everything did, nowadays, but ever since she'd started practicing the art of Shutting Her Mouth, things had gotten a little better.

"Well, that's…" Vietnam started to venture, trying _so_ hard to find something supportive to say to him. She was the one everyone went to for that sort of thing, and she couldn't let down her little brother.

"You're very determined to keep the baby, aren't you?" at Kiku's firm and immediate nod, she just sighed softly. "Then nobody can stop you, no matter what we think. In that case, it's… well, I guess it's great for the both of you. Welcome to the start of a horrible, painful adventure."

"How would _you_ know what that's like?" Cambodia sniffed, unable to resist the urge.

Vietnam turned to her younger sister, sudden acid in her dark eyes, a clear message between the two of them - _don't test me; I don't tell you a_ thing_ in proportion to my life._

* * *

"Hey, you sure you're okay…?" Greece asked, looking down from the top of the steps that led up to his house, a large package cradled in his arms. Japan shot him a look – one he was very used to using, now that he'd told Heracles, Alfred, Mingxia, Kim, Pich and Noi. They all started treating him like he was _dying_, not with child – and only three months, at that.

At least Greece took his hints and gave Japan the space he needed, allowed him freedom without making him embarrass himself. Still, they had heavy boxes to haul up the steps and through the front 'garden'. The boxes were full of books and other such things that Greece had recently taken out of deep storage and felt the need to go through. And just as Heracles needed to go through them, Kiku needed to help, prove that he wasn't just a freeloader; that he was useful for things like carrying boxes and rowing boats, too.

Once they were up the steps, the boxes set near the front door, Greece went in to grab canned tea and crackers for them both. Japan sat down on the whitewashed stone, tipping his face up to the sun. The neighbor's house, though similar in that it was its own walled-in world, was completely different in structure and effectively shielded the sun from direct contact with Kiku's skin - therefore, it didn't have the opportunity burn it until it was a horrible and sore shade of pink.

"Here." Greece murmured, handing Kiku one of the cans and placing the box of crackers between them. He sat down too, and soon the usual comfortable silence settled over them like a blanket. After the crackers were gone and the cans emptied, Greece smiled over at Japan.

"It's hot out here… would you like to… take siesta… inside?"

The other pinked instantly – siesta meant cuddling in the heat inside of Heracles' dark, low-ceilinged bedroom, but…

"I would love to."


	5. Chapter 5

"I… don't…"

Japan frowned determinedly at the mirror, pushing a palm against the curve of his five-month belly like he could push or suck it back in. He stood up straight; he slouched down. Greece, who could see all of this from the bed, watched with amusement in his eyes.

"None of that will help very much, you know…" He stated softly, noting Kiku's scowl of frustration. No matter which angle he tried it from; in his normal white suit you could certainly tell that he had a strange little bump. It wouldn't be a problem if he was going to wear said suit to, say, a meeting with his boss, or with someone who might notice but wouldn't comment – but to a Summit?

"I am aware."

"You can always wear dark colors, you know…" but then, Japan didn't really like wearing anything darker than a dark brown or gray. Black held too many bad memories, too many sentiments he'd made while not entirely himself. "I'd offer you my clothes but… obviously…"

Kiku shook his head, tweaking his frown to the side. After a moment he sighed heavily, shrugged the jacket off and shed the tie, the button-up shirt. Left in his plain white undershirt, he turned to face the mirror full-on.

"… I look fat."

Heracles tried not to sigh. Lately they'd been getting into conversations such as that – Japan's moods became wildly unpredictable, and frankly, it was scaring the shit out of Greece. One moment he'd be placidly listening to the news on the radio, the next he'd be whining about how he couldn't understand Greek when it was spoken _so fast. _One morning he blew up over how Heracles folded his clothes; though he couldn't resist the thought that Kiku looked like an indignant little sparrow when angry, he was still thoroughly shamed and slunk around the house for the rest of the day.

At least Kiku's mood right then was alright – it seemed like he was mostly in control of himself.

"You're not fat, Kiku..." Heracles started in on the futile effort, wondering if he could get away with just flopping back into the pillows and falling asleep. It was too hot, anyway; mid-August was unbearable, sometimes.

"But I am."

"You're pregnant… There's a very distinct difference…"

The other's sigh was audible. Just as Greece finally succumbed to the heat and lay back, fully intent on taking a nap, he could hear quiet footsteps padding over from the bathroom to the bed. After a moment he felt Kiku's weight sink into the mattress. At least _that _was a pleasant change; as Japan adjusted to the Greek way of life (he visited more and more often, somehow feeling safer in his love's home than in his own) he was beginning to get into the habit of siesta. And with siesta, there was always Greece… who'd found that it was very easy to capture and cuddle a sleepy Japan.

That he did – though it was really too hot to do so, Heracles rolled over and wrapped Kiku in his arms loosely. Though he reddened considerably, the smaller of them allowed it to happen, eventually snuggling in himself. The both of them were asleep within minutes, soothed by the human warmth and the sound of life just outside the bedroom window.

Of course, Kiku woke much sooner than Heracles did. Everything about him was efficient, if not like Germany, but more formal – if siesta lasted from four to six, then he'd sleep for exactly two hours. No more, no less. He even _looked _official and orderly, usually sleeping straight, like a soldier, like he was packed into a tube…

It was almost dinnertime and Japan was too hungry to wait for Greece to wake up. Usually they would go out for an early dinner or cook together, but he figured that making something small to tide himself over until they ate couldn't hurt. Untangling himself from the other's arms, Kiku sat up and stretched the kinks and curls out of his back, yawning and scratching a familiar cat behind her ears. He was smiling fondly at nothing much when he noticed the little jump.

"Mmm?" he hummed, poking at his tummy, figuring (of course) that the pang was out of hunger and nothing more. Wincing a little over the reappearing pain near his hip, he climbed out of bed and padded slowly towards the stairs, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

* * *

_This is better than how I first made it out to be... _Kiku mused to himself, picking up another small chunk of feta cheese with his chopsticks. Among a few other things, (like garlic, tomatoes, lamb...) feta was the kind of food he probably would never have eaten by choice. But lately, ever since the little bundle of joy took root within him, he'd been craving Greek food almost nonstop. For days on end he could survive on nothing more than traditional salad and bread and souvlaki, not to mention all the other foods that Greece's people (geniuses that they were) had come up with.

A small smile of contentment on his face, Japan had just replaced the remaining cheese in the refrigerator and set some water on the stove to boil for tea, when he noticed the hunger pang again. His lip twitched. What he'd just eaten - feta cheese and some bread - was more than enough to tide him over until dinner, light eater that he was.

He was considering the possibility that his stomach had reacted badly to something when it hit him - _duh! _- like a bird slamming straight into a window. He stopped dead where he was, pressed his hand to his belly and moved it around until he found the most direct area of the movement...

"H-Heracles!" He called, trying not to wince at the pain of _not using an honorific, _more excited than anything to show Greece what he'd just discovered. A moment later, he heard the telltale creaking, then the solid _thump _of Greece falling off the bed and getting up to rush to his side.

Ever since Kiku'd discovered that he was in a _delicate state, _his lover had more than stepped up to do his part. It was becoming common for him to forgo naps, instead willingly catering to Kiku's new whim of food or temper or whatever else his baby-influenced mind could convince itself that it needed _right now, Heracles, i'm _super _serious. _And he did it all with a smile on his face, leaving a kiss on Japan's forehead as he trudged out in the blanket of summer heat to buy the latest must-have.

Moments later, in fact, he was in the kitchen, at Kiku's side. Concern was written all over his face. Even more than the actual _pregnant _one, Greece was holding his breath and steeling his mind for the worst, and being called in the middle of a nap couldn't mean that there was anything good Kiku needed to inform him of...

But: but. His hand was grabbed at the wrist, palm pressed flat to the naked, warm skin of Japan's belly, right above (and to the right) of his navel. He was confused for a moment, before those seafoam eyes widened in surprise, in wonder -

"H-he's... kicking!"

* * *

The summit turned out to be a big twitching headache, complete with inexplicable roses and ancient, flying mints. Someone must have gotten a hold of the jar that England had filled up back in 1980, then stuffed in the back of a closet a few months later.

_But, _Kiku wondered to himself, _how else could it _possibly _turn out? _He rubbed his temples, trying to duck his head low enough to avoid being hit by the small candy projectiles and maybe block out some of the noise.

Though he was always expected to be one of those who actually got some _work _done during every meeting, this time around he didn't touch his paperwork, his briefcase or phone. Nothing. He didn't even accept the invitation he'd gotten to go into another room with a few other countries, the ones that met to have some _civilized _company during these times of international crisis - if not to get some good conversation (and gossip) in there, too.

No, Japan just sat in his seat, trying to be very small, in more ways than one. He'd finally found a gray jacket that made him look a somewhat less curved in the middle, but really, nobody would be convinced by the clothing alone. If he dared stand to do anything, he feared he'd be found out before he could say it himself. Both he and Greece figured that coming out with the truth in the first place was better than never doing so and dealing with all the rumors that would float up eventually, anyway.

And to his credit, Kiku was doing a good job of being small and avoiding a headache and keeping his hands _away _from his belly, despite the fact that now he could recognize and feel whenever the baby kicked - which he was, right then. He was about to breathe a sigh of relief that lunch was coming when the white noise of arguments (sometimes punctuated by the staccato of someone shouting for everyone else to _SHUT UP ALREADY_, or by the occasional gunshot) bubbled down to nothing.

Eerie, cold, desolate, tangible, _nothing._

Kiku really didn't even have to look up to confirm that every single eye in the room was on him.

Feeling the heat rise in his face, Japan eventually did just that, slowly raising his head as if he were facing the audience at his execution. He had no idea what was going on, or what somebody had said, but he was already running things to announce through his mind and thinking of quick escape strategies in case was the victim of - yet another - water balloon attack.

The silence stretched out, greedily filling every space and inch and nook and cranny in the room. Japan had _no _idea what was going on, until, several tense seconds later, America cleared his throat.

He did so again, fiddling with his tie, rubbing the back of his neck.

That wasn't a good sign. Alfred cleared his throat when he was nervous or guilty or scared or reading - or any combination of those. Kiku felt the blood drain out of him, rushing to his face, which couldn't be good at all, both for his face _and_ for the baby.

"A - ano..." He mumbled, glancing around, hoping that someone could offer a clue as to what exactly was going on. If he were to stick his tongue out at that moment, he would probably taste pure _tension._

Finally, clearing his throat once again, America took the podium at the end of the long table, as was unfortunately customary.

"Well, now that _that _little bit of news has been cleared up, _why don't we discuss _-"

"Wait." England cut America off short, earning a sour look from his former colony and a half-terrified one from Japan.

"Now, Japan. You're _what?_"

"A-ano... I... don't understand..." Kiku tried feebly, feeling horribly frozen, trapped, on the spot. He still wasn't even _sure _what had been said that caused such a hush, but he knew _exactly _what 'little bit of news' he'd bet his GDP on.

"Having a _baby, _Japan? _Really_?"

With that, with Kiku's meek little nod of confirmation, the silence turned from thick to empty - the vacuum noise of hundreds of nations all sucking in their breath at once. It lasted for the barest hair of a second.

And then - calamity. Pure chaos. Shouts of congratulations mixed in with protests, whines about lunchtime, bad smells or _these mints taste _terrible! Kiku could feel the glares and stares and dismissing glances of so many others, those he respected more than anything. On instinct, he curled into himself, clamping his hands over his ears... the same position he'd taken when the Netherlands knocked on his door, so many years ago. Only this time, he had no blanket, no Pochi-kun to comfort him, just his useless gray suit and a giant, twitching headache, complete with inexplicable roses and ancient, flying mints.

* * *

"Well... That was a nightmare." Greece mumbled, raising his eyebrows sternly at America. He, Japan, America, Spain, and Belgium were sitting outside some run-down grocery store a few miles away from the building-turned-Hell that the Summit was being held at.

The younger just chuckled nervously, eyeing Kiku instead. Said nation was slowly draining a water bottle, still too shaky and red and petrified to eat anything other than some olives or yogurt or crackers, all of which were out of the question at that point. At least the four had managed to beat their way through the crowd to rescue the poor guy, and escort him far enough away for him to feel safe enough to release the clamps on his ears and knees from his chest.

"I... it was the heat of the moment, y'know?" America ventured, pink with guilt over betraying his best friend's biggest secret. "It just kinda... slipped. I didn't expect anyone to hear! Or care! Honest!"

At that, Spain chuckled a little. "You underestimate the ears we have, America. And news like that?" He shook his head, snickering a little to himself. "It's _gold." _

"You didn't even have it that bad!" Belgium sullenly protested, finishing off her apple juice and shooting Spain a half-hearted glare.

"Romano didn't even show until late! And we kept it a secret! Nobody asked! And by then, it was too late."

"_You _managed to keep it a secret?"

"You were around then, weren't you?"

Belgium shook her head slowly, frowning a little. Patting Japan affectionately on the thigh as she got up, she leaned up against the wall and just sighed. "Well, looks like that strategy won't quite _work _now, won't it?"

"What's the worst that... they'll do?" Greece asked, looking from Spain to Belgium slowly. The former's face tightened into a slight grimace before blooming into a cheery, if not hopeful, grin.

"Well, nothing!"

Belgium's voice elbowed its way in. "Yeah, they'll _try _to do shit. You know how paranoid England and China and all of them are! They'll get it in their heads that the baby's a new nation that'll take everyone down, or something crazy like that." She shook her head, crossing her arms. "So who knows what they'll do. Just... just don't stand at the top of staircases for too long, alright, Japan?"

"That is not funny, Belgium-san."

"I'm serious."

"They'd... really... try that?"

"Like I said, Greece. Who knows?"

America suddenly laughed - strong, pure, the laugh of a young man completely confident in his skills as a hero_. _"Yeah, like they can get through _us._"

Spain turned to the blonde, then to Japan, nodding enthusiastically. "Don't worry! We'll pull you through this. It'll be okay. We're with you, buddy, and I'm sure there are more nations that are just _looking _to piss England and China off by rebelling. You think we're gonna just roll over without a fight? I don't know you very well, Japan, but I know you're not going to do that. And you know what? Neither are we."


	6. Chapter 6

One early Wednesday morning, around the time when the fishermen were just about ready to bring in their catch and dawn's color had officially left the sky, Greece awoke suddenly to the sound of something painfully like yowling.

He quickly figured that it wasn't a cat - he'd never heard that kind of noise come from any animal at all. He also figured, though, that it couldn't come from anything that was having much _fun_, so he lay there for a while, thinking (very hard) about getting up to investigate.

By the time he heard a hissing noise, like something was being fried, and smelled something vaguely delicious, he couldn't resist the need to satisfy his curiosity any longer. With a kiss on Kiku's forehead he unwound himself out of their little mess of sheets and limbs, pulled on a pair of loose jeans and padded downstairs, trying to look like he was being cautious of any sort of trap.

What he came upon in the kitchen quite possibly _could have been _a trap, if it was so obviously... not.

Greece blinked, blinked, and blinked again.

Because, for one, the yowling sound was coming from Spain. Once he listened closely, he could hear words; "AND NOOOOOOW THAT YOU'RE GONE, JUST WANNA BEEEE WITH YOU!"

The man looked like he was having fun, wearing short shorts and nothing else; except a nipple ring, it seemed, and a tiny ponytail at the base of his skull that captured all of an inch of curls. He looked like he was attempting to gyrate his hips and shake his booty, in a manner befitting the song sung by the man he so idolized (when smashed out of his mind).

And to his credit, well... he succeeded.

Trying very hard _not _to stare straight at Spain's Ass, Greece cleared his throat, managing somehow to get the other's attention over all the noise.

"Oh, morning, Greece! You look _nice_ today!" Antonio grinned, sunny as noon; in a large pan he stirred something that looked vaguely like orange scrambled eggs. Greece just nodded numbly, trying very _very _hard to not stare at the other's butt.

"Um... good morning to you too, Spain... ... Why, uhh... why are you cooking breakfast? In my house?"

In return, Antonio chuckled, turning back to his cooking and, to some degree, his hip-wiggling. "I thought it'd be _nice_, hmm? Mexico taught me how to make these! It's scrambled eggs with chorizo!"

Greece nodded, just trying to _accept_ the whole situation. He had a rather large hunch; now that they'd made some new 'allies', said 'allies' would be making themselves right at home with him, and being kinder than anyone Greece had ever really known. He wondered, for a moment, in just how many ways that kindness and generosity would manifest.

"Are ... are you drunk?"

"Oh, no, he's being _himself_. Spain at nine AM isn't a very sane sight, really."

Greece turned to look in the direction of the sudden voice; it was Belgium, who was carrying a stuffed grocery bag in through the creaky back door. She was followed by Romano, who carried two, and a rather sour frown on his face.

"Spain at _any _hour..." he started, trailing off into some sort of mumbled passive-aggressiveness. Spain called a cheery greeting to the both of them as well, remembering to stop and deliver the traditional kisses; Romano blushed and ducked to avoid his, like a sulking 14-year-old boy.

"Oh, Romanito's in a bad mood?" Antonio pretended to pout for a moment. "Well, don't worry! We'll eat soon and then your tummy won't be all grumbly -"

"Enough, dumbass!" Lovino interrupted sternly, opening the refridgerator. There was a lull before he shouted suddenly, as if someone had put potatoes on his plate and expected him to _eat _them.

"The _hell _is this, Greece?"

"... Umm, my food ... ?" Heracles answered, about to say something about everyone needing to be _quiet, Kiku's sleeping!, _before he realized that it would be absolutely futile. Oh well; Japan would be up very soon anyway, though visitors so early in the morning would likely throw him for an unpleasant loop.

Romano was about ready to take everything out of the refrigerator, go through it, organize it, and restock it. Not, though, before he first gave Greece a thorough verbal beating; he had to realize that _in order to cook properly, one must have a clean fridge and so help me God, if I have to spend any more time here than I absolutely _have _to, I'll get one more glimpse of the sorry state all that food's in and I'll give myself a goddamn heart attack. Do you _want_ that, Greece? _

Heracles was just about to really wonder why the Italian getting a heart attack would be a bad thing, when Belgium answered his thoughts, a smirk in her voice.

"Someone's gotta break down the others with words. We need to put up some kind of tough front, at the very least. And, well ... just try to find someone better suited for that than Romano."

"Romanito's like a toothless dog," Spain interrupted, pushing the pan off the heat and searching for plates, "he barks and barks but he doesn't bite! But does anyone go near the dog? No!"

"I don't need anyone telling me what i'm good for, dammit! But especially not _you two_. And stop comparing me to animals, Spain!"

_Back away slowly._ Greece thought to himself, doing just that. His brain refused to wrap itself around the whole scene, what had just transpired. People so _passionate_ and full of _life_, who talked so quickly, were virtually unheard of around Greece's private home. While still attempting to process the first image of Spain in the kitchen, he didn't realize that he'd bumped lightly into Japan until the other tapped him on the shoulder and asked where exactly he was going.

"Oh! Kiku, I... you're awake!"

Japan nodded slowly, rubbing an eye and frowning in the direction of their uninvited guests. Before he could say something under his breath like, "if you had given me some forewarning, we would be ready to welcome you..." Spain had bounced over and enveloped him a tight, loving hug.

"Good mooorning! Do you want eggs? I made eggs! How are you feeling today, Japan?" He asked breathlessly, releasing his victim from the hug only when he felt it necessary to float off and serve said breakfast that he'd made, without waiting for Japan to actually answer any of his rapidfire questions.

Sputtering and red, Japan sat down gratefully in the chair Belgium pulled out for him. He was fine with Greece hugging him, even Italy, on a good day! But... but...

Belgium leaned down so her chin brushed against Kiku's shoulder. "Welcome to the rest of your life," she purred, the soft warm deathtrap of a fortuneteller sealing your fate.

* * *

"... and so I was thinking, wouldn't it be _so cool _if you could just have the baby like a kangaroo? I mean, you'd give birth to it and it'd be like, the size of a lima bean and then you'd just put it in your pouch and it'd take care of itself! Wouldn't that be just so cool?"

"Hai, Alfred-kun. You are right. Unfortunately, It would appear that I lack a pouch in which to nurture my child."

"I _knoooow_! Doesn't that suck?" America shook his head, hands clamped together at the back of his neck. The two were heading down the hall of some Houston hotel at which a minor conference was being held; they were going to stop and change clothes before going out to eat and explore around the city, despite the crippling late-August heat.

They almost made it, too.

Before Alfred could finish his thought on how much it would suck if the baby decided to come out Alien style, the two were violently ambushed.

Their attackers? Three young(-looking) women with huge grins on their faces and small gifts in their arms. They might as well have been pirates, though, or enemy soldiers, because America shrieked and Kiku attempted to defend himself just the same.

"You're having a _baby_!"

"H-hungary-san! Was it really approp-"

"It's wonderful, Mr. Japan!"

"Oh, _isn't it_, Lili?"

"I can't wait to meet the little bugger!"

Japan carefully picked Hungary, Liechtenstein, and Wy off of him, at the same time patting America awkwardly on the shoulder, attempting to comfort him after he so (un-heroically) lost his cool. He offered thanks and polite refusals of the gifts to the women, who couldn't stop gushing about their full-hearted support; any stupid man who didn't appreciate the miracle of life was _obviously_ old and stinky and close-minded, they professed.

"Seychelles and Monaco and Zimbabwe send their love, too!" Hungary called behind her, finally fleeing, with the two younger girls at her heels.

Japan, still red and stressed from the surprise attack, stared after them. Like the scene at breakfast, he halfway believed that it didn't happen, but...

"Told 'ya so!" Alfred smirked, shaking his head and heading down the hall towards his room as if nothing had happened, as if he were already accepting the fact that being jumped like that would fast become _normal._

* * *

_**Thank you so much, those of you who reviewed. c: It means a lot to me, and it keeps me motivated to work on the story. So ... R&R, please!**_


	7. Chapter 7

As the days passed and hard work became more and more foreign to him, Kiku found that it was becoming _far _too easy to sleep in. There were days when he woke up at times pressing towards _nine in the morning. _Although this was completely unacceptable, one couldn't blame him; he barely got enough sleep as it was, as the baby had somehow discovered that it was glorious fun to kick when his mother was trying to relax. And with Greece, it was always so warm and cozy... although it was an entirely new and strange sensation, Japan had to admit; cuddling wasn't so bad. It could even be _enjoyable, _on some occasions.

On one particular morning, though, it seemed that absolutely _everything _was more out of whack than it already was. First, Kiku woke up at ten-thirty in the morning. As soon as the panic at his somehow impolite hour of waking subsided, he'd looked out the window and found that it was raining. It was a soft fall, and it looked soothing, though he knew that it would just make everything outside wet and gray and miserable. He'd smiled a little; he liked the rain, no matter what.

And as he turned to wake Greece, he found something that shocked him _completely_. His lover was not there. That was likely the most disorienting thing of all; usually it took poking and prodding and near-_pleading _to get him to wake up before eleven in the morning, and if Kiku was there to sleep withhim? The Greek did everything in his power to make sure they stayedin bed together, for as long as possible. He must have had some important emergency meeting to attend, or something of the like. The thought that maybe something had happened with the other's people temporarily crossed his mind, but he quickly and stubbornly shook it away. _Positive thoughts, Kiku. _

Rubbing his eyes, Japan turned and finally scooted reluctantly out of bed. As he went he put on his yukata; as he put on his socks as well, he found himself feeling glad that Heracles wasn't there to witness the struggle that it was just to put the damn things on. It took a few minutes for him just to find the kitchen, in the labyrinth that was Greece's home, alone, without anyone or anything to guide him.

* * *

Nibbling on some double chocolate Hello Panda snacks, Kiku decided to see what he could discover in the grand maze of Heracles' humble home. The Greek had left a note on the kitchen table, saying that he had to go to a meeting of some sort and wouldn't be back until the evening, but he could talk and come home at any time... Though of course he loved having company (and he never was without it, technically), Japan smiled at the opportunity to have some peaceful, calm and quiet alone time.

* * *

"Ah... what a fantastically complicated home... hmm, Pochi-kun?" Japan mused aloud, stopping for a moment to scratch his beloved little dog behind the ear before turning a tight corner in the darkened back hall and stepping into a small, cramped room.

Like most of the others, at first glance it was simply filled with junk. Furniture that was probably picked up at the side of a highway, knick-knacks you'd only find at a thrift store and antiques even a museum would be glad to have all crowded together in a sort of lazy harmony that only someone like Heracles could pull off. While a few rooms in his home were open, airy, organized and spacious, many more seemed to be like this one; giant storage closets. While a few had beds and looked at least _somewhat _like guest rooms or bedrooms, still others had themes - like "office" or "sitting room" or "crap from the 1700s".

Kiku would never have guessed that the home was so large; from the front it looked small and cramped, though the gaggle of potted plants and other such things on the front patio should have lent him to the idea. Not even in their many years of friendship and visitation had Japan seen all of the other's home, and although the thought that maybe there was a _reason _for that being so put him on edge, he couldn't fight his curiosity. So he pressed on, discovering new things, putting new ideas and perceptions of Heracles in his head with each room and closet and hallway and window he happened to glance in, down, and out of.

* * *

It was good to sit, finally. Rubbing his belly with one hand, (trying, in vain, to calm the baby's sudden kicking) Japan sat himself down slowly on the bed he and Greece now shared. He stopped to help Pochi up as well, a gentle smile on his face.

Lying down, he sighed softly, half out of relief to be off his feet and relaxing, half as a byproduct of all the thoughts and musings that were already racing through his head.

He knew that Greece was a mystery. Kiku himself had often remarked so, and knew that the other said the very same thing about him in return. He figured that it had to do with age and experience; pain and joy, living and let live. But now -

"Perhaps..." Kiku thought aloud, having found long ago that speaking out loud to Pochi helped him better organize his thoughts, "he needs a large, complicated home to mirror his heart, or his experience... or, he needs things to fill a gap? Like those 'hoarders' on America's television shows. Although he is not even _close _to them..."

He shook his head slowly, pressing his eyes together. Trying to pin the other to words was both easy and hard - he was like the cast colors of a stained glass window on a white marble church floor. You could pick out colors and general shapes easily, but trying to put them together into a whole picture was the real challenge. Japan would be the opposite - you could see the picture, but not the colors - the motivation, the thoughts behind his actions and his mannerisms, was often the thing to figure out.

"But if I could pin him down - he would be stubborn, lazy, kind, generous... he is attached to the past. He likes wandering, because having a path 'is boring.' ...Pochi, how is it that I know this man better than I know myself, yet I don't know him at all?"

The dog barked softly, curling up into a ball of blonde fur at Japan's side. His master lay there, a half-smile on his face, feeling his heart press into itself with love; for the impossible baby that kicked and wiggled inside of him, for the rain that pattered softly on the roof, the ocean and soft socks and salted salmon and olives and how Greece had made him ride on a burro all the way up a hill when they were in Santorini, but mostly for that man himself.

"I... I should tell him... Sh-shouldn't I?"

* * *

Kiku tried. Bless his heart, he really did.

It wasn't as if he was scared of the other's reaction - if anything, knew that it would be of joy and love, too. There really was no doubt of how Greece felt for him. His slow courting, extreme patience and good humor in almost every situation were certainly evidence enough... Well, if the bump immediately _wasn't_.

So he attempted to say it when Heracles got home, his hair puffed up from the rain (_I love that too, _Kiku thought), but he just couldn't get it out. Instead he helped his lover out of his wet clothes, gave into the soft kissing and touching that ensued, and sternly chastised him after – as usual.

He tried saying it over dinner, but ended up just asking for the soy sauce, humiliation and defeat written all over his face. How could _he, _Japan, leader in technology, master of miraculous modernization, the one and only Land Of The Rising Sun, sophisticated nation extraordinaire (and ex-samurai to boot) be scared of uttering three little words?

He'd manage to choke out the news that he was pregnant - _in public, _too! He'd also talked about feelings once or twice before. He was ready. The only other thing he could possibly do was ask Germany if he had guides on how to say it, but he wasn't quite ready to face Feliciano's extreme excitement so soon, and _willingly. _(He was already preparing himself for the inevitable shower of affection and hospitality that would ensue after the baby's birth).

But: but. One look up at Greece, and he knew _exactly _how he could be so frightened, so completely petrified of saying it. It wasn't that he thought he would be laughed at, or rejected. Maybe the words just weren't enough. All he'd ever wanted was someone who would just understand him, after all.

* * *

"A-ano... We should choose a color already..."

Three nations stood - rendered completely helpless in the face of such a monumental decision - in front of a mostly blank wall. On it three paint colors were smeared, left to dry long enough to show their permanent tone.

The first was a light blue, matching, more or less, Greece's own flag. Heracles chose that for obvious reasons, but made the compelling argument that "it reminds one... of the sky..."

Another was a soft green, the color that Feliciano chose, saying something about it being "pretty, and it'll remind the baby of meadows and running and stuff!"

The last was a light cream color, not exactly white (or off-white), but not yellow either. Japan rather liked that one, claiming gender neutrality. To him, it, too, was peaceful.

The three leaned in on their hips; Japan's hand floated to rest atop his tummy, as if he could draw some kind of answer out of the little one himself. Feliciano, ever the dedicated painter, was quiet for once, lost in his pondering of which tone really _did _look best. Greece was thinking about lunch, and also about cats. All in all, it was a storm of consideration and silent argument.

"I think that the white or the green would be best, really!" Italy finally said, nodding firmly. "Blue is nice, but it would make a little girl feel out of place! And she wouldn't even know what the sky _is!" _

Greece, considering this for a moment, shrugged. "I... well... whatever Kiku decides, is... fine with me."

The two turned to Japan, who in turn froze up; he _hated _making these kinds of decisions. The mother part of his brain was screaming for him to just _finish the room already, _but the rest just couldn't tell.

"I... I will sleep on the decision. It is too monumental for me to make as of now."

"Does that mean we can make lunch now?"

* * *

"I'm glad we chose this room..." Heracles murmured against his lover's hair, after Italy had gone home. The two lay on a small couch that had been dragged in, that faced the window, and the wicker chair placed under it.

Secure and sleepy in his arms, Kiku made a little noise of confusion, though he figured that Greece would say that just because it _was _a good room for a nursery. It was close to their bedroom, with a window facing the general direction of the ocean and it was spacious enough to fit everything in.

"I..." Greece started, then shifted a little so the other would be a little more comfortable - he knew how precious sleep had become to Japan recently. "I just figure that... well, this is sort of where it all began."

It being the second sitting room would ultimately mean nothing to Kiku, and technically should have been nothing special to Heracles. But that the room where he'd first sat, where he received that call, would be where it would end, both of their lives changed forever, was enough to make Greece smile for the nearly-impossible future and kiss his lover goodnight as he, too, fell asleep. Three heartbeats fluttered; together, they were stronger than anything.


	8. Chapter 8

"Hey! Hey, you guys home?"

Greece and Japan had _just _settled in for siesta when they heard the frantic and rapid knocking on the door. Both had sighed deeply; the only one who went about knocking like that was Alfred. Their only consolation was the fact that they didn't have to move much, didn't have to get up and get the door, because within five seconds America had let himself in anyway.

It took him, though, about ten minutes to actually _find _them, where they lay in the living room, tangled together, spooning, the chill of the autumn air getting to them both.

"Hey, guys, what's up? Can I cuddle too?"

Greece raised his eyebrows at the boy, sensing that, despite his sunny-as-usual exterior, he hadn't just come to chat and cuddle and to eat all of their food. He was usually the bearer of bad news, whenever it came, (seeing as Kiku himself was slowly dropping out of the pool of the first-informed and Heracles had never been in it in the first place) and he had the look he usually did when he visited with the job of unfortunate messenger.

Taking, anyway, the slight nod Greece unintentionally gave as a sort of affirmation, America dropped down to his knees and shuffled over to the couch, stopping to stare at the firm round bulge of Japan's tummy. He wasn't usually allowed to touch at all, unless Kiku was in a particularly good mood; nobody was, with the obvious exception of Heracles. Yet _talking _was not out of the question...

Before Greece could ask what exactly he'd come to say, Alfred was chattering happily to the unborn baby - Kiku had apparently fallen asleep, warm and distracted once he was wrapped up in Heracles' arms.

"Hey, buddy! Guess what? You and I, we're gonna be _best friends forever. _I'll take you hiking and fishing and to football games and to Six Flags and we'll eat Italian food in New York, and -"

Though he felt a little bad for interrupting the excited babble, after about five minutes Greece did so, placing one hand atop of America's head. Somewhat surprisingly, Alfred shut up instantly. At the same time, Greece nudged Japan awake gently, figuring that whatever it was, he'd want to know too.

"What ... are you here to tell us?"

* * *

"... So, what'cha think?" America was saying as he attempted to find out just how he was supposed to sit in the chair he'd dragged out into the living room for himself. Unbeknownst to him, it was some sort of 'art turned furniture' piece that Greece had picked up at an estate sale – he didn't know how exactly it was supposed to be used, either, but the internal chuckle that Alfred's attempts brought was well worth what he'd paid for it.

What the American was talking about, was an incident that had happened to him earlier that day. He was "hanging out with Artie, when all of a sudden he was just, like, daaaaamn that Japan's stupid! Or whatever. And I was like, 'nu-uh!' and he was like, we'll see."

Though the two others in the room were sure it happened just a _little _differently, they were still put off by Alfred's retelling of it. The fact that there were those who obviously disagreed with the decision was obvious, and something they'd all come to terms with, had even become used to. England, China, Turkey, even extremely unexpected nations like Finland and Sweden had voiced their opposition, though most of them did nothing to act on their words. For the most part, in fact, they left Greece and Japan alone.

"I... ano..." Kiku mumbled after a moment, honestly unsure. He knew this day would come, when everything that had been slowly stewing around them would come to an ugly boil. He'd been trying to prepare himself, in fact, but the comfort that his (surprisingly extended) support network had lulled him into a sense of security. He even felt little inklings of an attitude he thought he'd long buried, one that basically said 'screw the rules!'; one that most everyone he associated already had plenty of.

And, of course, as was the custom whenever Kiku started to develop a less-than-perfectly-respectful attitude (even if it never showed its face), the world just _had_ threw a punch to the face his way.

Greece, however, who had his arms around Japan as they sat together, tightened his hold protectively. Kiku could practically hear Greece's eyes narrowing at America's description of the day, and how England planned to hold a meeting later, one of the focuses of it being discussing Japan's current delicate state, and the possible repercussions. While Heracles was typically nothing but gentle and doting and just _himself _with Kiku, there was a strong, protective side of him that was just waiting to jump out at the first sign of danger, and this seemed to be considered dangerous.

There was a short silence in which Greece seemed to be thinking something over thoroughly, as usual, and then: "we should go. Present our side of the case; hear whatever they have to say. It won't do any good to avoid them and let even more rumors crop up, right? Better to do it now than later..."

* * *

_He is right. We have to do this now. _Kiku reminded himself sternly, nervously straightening the sleeves of his custom-made suit. Although he was carrying small and most of him could fit into his normal suits, Liechtenstein had kindly stepped in to tailor one just to accommodate his new shape. For that he was extremely grateful; he would hate to wear an ill-fitting outfit, just for the sake of his belly (the unborn resident of which was apparently so treacherous as to warrant a whole meeting out of the regular conference).

To his right sat Heracles, who was not asleep for once - in his button-up shirt (the top three buttons left undone) and dark pants and nice sneakers, he was about as dressed up as Japan could get him. He looked very thoughtful, if not, to Kiku, angry - though he was pretty much the only one who would pick up on the cues that Greece gave off. His abnormally good posture, the little tilt of his eyebrows, how his eyes darted all over the room... it was almost obvious, really, but who could blame him?

And then down the row on the right went Greece, America, Candia (that _was _his name, right?), Spain, Romano, Argentina, Vietnam and her sisters, Hungary and a few of the other women, Germany, Italy, France, and, surprisingly, Russia and his two sisters... and a few more, still. Kiku pinked a little when he saw many of them looking back at him as he scanned their faces, a few with serious expressions but most with supportive, confident smiles.

At the opposite head of the table sat England, looking very professional and businesslike, as he oriented himself and organized whatever he had in the folder he'd brought along. To his left sat China, Turkey, the Cyprus twins, Switzerland, the Baltic brothers, Poland, many Middle Eastern and African nations, even Sweden and Finland.

To both Greece and Japan, the reason why the last two would oppose them was completely befuddling. Japan was actually rather good friends with Finland, and Sweden and Greece got along by default, so it couldn't be personal. And they were very rational people; surely they didn't buy into the argument that a child of nations always has to be a new, potentially dangerous, nation...

Before he could be caught staring, Kiku tore his gaze away from the two uncomfortable-looking Nordics, instead glancing down at his tummy, and then, as if embarrassed, quickly back at Heracles. Under the table, they held hands - or it was more like Greece held Japan's hand in his. The latter's was so small compared to the formers that, unless their fingers were laced together, proper hand-holding was sort of a challenge. It was all he could do not to scold the other for so much PDA.

The white noise of chatter and papers being flipped through and other such noises gradually began to die down once someone took the podium and cleared their throat into the microphone. It was so calm, for a meeting. No fights had broken out... _yet, _Japan silently added, trying to remember all of the points he had prepared in his own defense as he was stared down by the man at the podium - England himself.

"Be settled, everyone, please and thank you. Now." He paused to shuffle some papers and peer around at the audience. If anything could be said about England, it could be that once he got down to it, he really was a charming speaker. He even ignored most of the smartass comments people shouted, waited until _after _the meeting was adjourned to give the punks a piece of his mind. Usually, at least.

"We are here today to discuss a matter of importance - some could say _grave _importance - to all of us. That would be, of course, the fact that Japan is expecting a child. Now, we have all experienced this before, in one way or another. The 'miracle of life', if you will. And, now, why is it that we are so concerned over the fact that it is _Japan _having a child, and not, say, Miss Seychelles? For one, there is the classic point. What if the child born is, indeed, another nation? In this day and age it is unlikely, but not impossible. And what if this nation rises up against us? What if its formation does nothing but hurt the human citizens gathered under its name? That has been, and always will be, a concern. This not simply a private matter; it could concern us all. Both Greece and Japan are nations with a long legacy of empire and power. Who is to say that the child will not inherit these, in ill spirit?"

England nodded and took his seat after speaking a bit more, to the instant chorus of shouting from "Kiku's Side". Those on the opposite side of the table looked to be anything, from bored, uneasy, angry, confused, mournful, or a strange combination of any of those. On _their _opposite, everyone suddenly was angry, confused, annoyed, scared, uneasy, or, well, any combination of _those. _

After a few moments, Japan took a very deep breath and stood, stepping over to the podium set up on his side of the room, barely remembering to bring his papers along with him. When he opened his neatly organized folder, he saw that Greece had scrawled the most important, 'do not forget' points out for him, in simple and clear language, and stuck the paper in the very front. This little sign of consideration lending him strength, Kiku began, instantly capturing the attention of everyone in the room.

"Thank you very much, England-san, for your insight. And thank you, too, everyone, for attending this meeting on my account. I am deeply sorry for any inconvenience caused." He furrowed his brows, trying hard to remember something that _wasn't _a formality. One glance down at the paper helped immensely, and he launched into explaining his first point immediately.

"First and foremost, I believe that it is the business of only Greece-san and myself, and those who we choose to confide in, what happens with the child. That is the way humans do it, and in the interest of keeping our humanity as intact as possible, as I am sure we are all concerned with, the value of privacy should be carefully considered. It is a violation of both my own rights and that of the child to attempt to interfere with his life, no matter the reason."

* * *

The morning quickly melted into the afternoon, which, in turn, melted into the evening. The meeting spanned _three whole meals_, and still, at the end of the day, they were not even close to a clear-cut conclusion.

Japan, and many of those who had gathered in his support, chose to sit a while by the hotel's fancy pool after the meeting was adjourned for the day. They were attempting to relax and regroup before heading in for bed, or heading out into the city for the night. Some were floating and swimming in the water, some were in the hot tub and still others sat scattered around the pool.

One of the biggest things in common was that they all had too much to talk about - it was as if they couldn't get the words out of their mouths and hear each other quickly enough.

"That _bastard!_" Hungary spat, kicking her feet into the water. "I know you agree, Herc! Turkey fucking attacked _you! _Said you were gonna be a bad father! That's... that's illogical! Fallacy!" She shook her head and wound down into a long tirade of curses and broken Hungarian, professing the fact that Turkey was biased and 'obviously stupid' and his opinion shouldn't be considered in the first place.

Greece, from where he sat next to Japan, just firmly nodded his agreement. It had been too long a day, there was too much to take in, to think about, for just one night. For the first time in recent memory, he felt that there was simply no time to sleep_. _

From England's point on the child being a potentially destructive nation, to Turkey's on Greece and Japan's ability to parent, to Uganda's point on gay marriage and Poland's ... point ... on it being 'just, uncool, y'know? Totes lame. You can't raise a _baby! _You're way too old for that,' to China's point on the possible consequences of two powerful nations having and raising a child in the first place, Kiku, too, was _exhausted. _

He knew that mostly, nations joined against him for personal, or completely biased and inarguable points, and mostly that was okay with him. Though he still wondered about Sweden and Finland, neither of whom had gotten a chance to speak, he was about ready to unwind and sleep.

For the first time in ages he felt almost _safe, _like he was at the very eye of an angry, raging storm. Nations he never knew cared about him - hell, nations he had even hurt with his own blade - and nations that he knew very well cared for him, had all risen up in his defense. In defense of the little one, kicking now, who had done nothing for (or against) them.

He was shocked, he was startled, he was safe and sound, but most of all - he was supported. And that alone was enough to carry him through.

* * *

_Tired. Tired. Tired. _Kiku repeated drowsily to himself, trying not to yawn aloud as he plodded slowly down the hall of the hotel, towards the room he and Heracles shared. It was such a relief, the thought that he would be catching a flight home the next morning...

Much unlike the first day, which had gone over with order, the second was just a festival of shouting, accusations, and all-around bigotry; and of course, Japan was the epicenter of it all. By lunchtime all of the apologizing, attempting to explain himself while still being polite, and paying attention to _everyone _had wrung out the last reserves of energy he'd had left.

At least the baby didn't seem to be affected; he still demanded that Kiku eat large amounts of strange things at odd hours, and had managed to add squirming around and rolling over to his ever-growing list of talents. He was doing so then when Japan heard the sound of someone running, coming from behind him, and getting closer. All thoughts of being tired flooded out of his mind; he turned quickly to see ... Finland, of all people, who stopped a few feet away from him a moment later.

Taking a deep breath, Tino flashed the other an apologetic grin and immediately said, both hands raised in surrender: "I just wanted to talk to you, Japan, if that's alright."

Though he was a little apprehensive, Japan offered Finland a polite smile and a nod, stepping a bit closer so they'd be at a more comfortable distance for a discussion. As if at the mere _mention _of being on his feet much longer, his feet and ankles began to throb again. Great...

"Alright," Finland began, suddenly looking slightly ashamed and uncomfortable all over again, "I know you've noticed that I'm opposing your decision and I know you're wondering why. Right? Okay, right. Well... I guess I just felt like I needed to tell you why, in person.

"It's not because of you or Greece, first off. I'd like to still be friends, if that's possible... And it's not because i'm afraid of the baby rising up against us or you both being bad parents or anything like that. I mean, that's your business. As long as the baby is healthy and happy, it's none of _mine. _Moi... I'm sure you'll both take to it really well.

"I guess... it's because i'm kind of scared for you, and for the baby, too. There isn't anything we can do about it now, but I remember... a long time ago, I was pregnant, too. Twice, actually, if you count... ... ah... Anyway! We lost both of the babies to miscarriage; it was horrible. You don't... Japan, you don't _ever _want to see the look on the father's face when you tell him, or on your own... it's unbearable. So when I heard that you're expecting, (at the time you were _five months, _in fact) and I remembered those times, I ended up speaking to England and there was just no turning back... And I guess I still don't wholly agree with you, and Sve's just going along with me. But, Japan, I want you to know that no matter what, I know you'll pull through it. You're one of the bravest people I've ever met, and Greece is a warrior, I can see that clearly..."

Reaching the end of his monologue, with an unreadable smile Tino pulled something out of his pocket - a small wrapped box - and pressed it into Kiku's palm. Murmuring a soft 'thank you, good-bye', the Finn gave the other a quick, awkward one-armed hug and was gone, presumably off to the comfort of Sweden's arms, before Japan could get a word in.

Said man was speechless. Not even _trying _to process the surprise confession yet, he brought the box up into his view and inspected it carefully. It was wrapped in pale blue paper, with a small navy-colored bow at the corner. Tucked into a fold, there was a small folded paper; inside it read, in careful print, _'Moi moi! Babies seem to like these a lot. Good luck!' _

Inside was tucked a small bell - it was silver, and obviously well made, with intricate tiny snowflakes carved on the surface. When given a good shake, it gave off a merry little sound, something even Kiku found himself smiling at.

Though he knew the real gift was nothing a thank-you note could be made for, he carefully tucked the box away in his pocket and began composing what he would write as he made his way, a little lighter this time, back to the room and the warm pair of arms that awaited _him._


	9. Chapter 9

The dream is old, familiar even, but horrific nonetheless.

He is running through the streets of modern-day Athens, everything shining and smoggy and sufficatingly crowded. He pushes citizens and tourists out of the way, only one goal, one thought, in his mind. But: she refuses to be found, and soon everything melts into faded images, rough caricatures-

_-being pulled into bedrooms, into arms, into the yawning gaping mouths of a cave where four of him lay, sprawled out awkwardly, all dead. Two young boys, a teenager, a man, they lay still bleeding, eyes open but not seeing, somehow looking at the spectator in the mouth of their shared coffin anyway. Their eyes are the murky green of stagnant lake water._

_Incense and blood and the crisp saltiness of olives, compared to the dull musk of the sea. He was running, running running running, the only thing he's honestly capable of in nightmares. He'd been there, before, once or twice when Turkey wanted to play games, this long narrow trail along the cliffs by the ocean. The only possible route of escape. From that time no memories remain, really, he's blocked most of them out successfully, but the overwhelming feeling of terror and determination mingle to a thin sheen that he's associated with the years he spent there in the Ottoman's house-_

He finally comes across a house, the one very much like that which he grew up in, when he was still with his mother. He skids to a stop and looks wildly around, sees that everyone there is grey-faced and empty-eyed, like they have all just had a war flash through their lives like a wildfire. They regard him with muted pity as he turns to bang on the front door and shouts, _let me in! I have to stop him! _

Tears are streaming down his face because inside, he's still the little boy who came in a few minutes too late, saw his mother and her blood, everywhere, the look in that man's eyes as he walked away, not even a drop of pity for the nine-year-old boy who had nowhere to go but down-

"Heracles!"

Someone is shaking his shoulder; it takes a moment or two for him to realize that he's at home, in his own bed, awake, and with Japan...

The familiar paralysis of relief and fear mixed is soon whisked away, as he realizes that he must have been screaming, but worst of all he can't shake the feeling that somewhere, sometime, he will walk into a room and see his mother laying there, bleeding, dead too.

He doesn't even realize that he's started to cry again, until Kiku pulls his head into his lap gently; his belly, still a bit small for almost eight months, is warm and firm under the thin cotton of his yukata. He runs his fingers through Greece's messy tangle of curls, lays a cool hand against the other's hot, damp cheek and murmurs softly in Japanese, the sound of more comfort than any lullaby. The moon leaks silver light in through the window, illuminating his hair, glossing it.

"Shh..." he whispers, leaning down as best as he can, cupping Heracles' face with both hands. Eventually the other props himself up, so their foreheads can touch, and Kiku is looking directly into his eyes, a rare thing for him to dare try.

"Hera-kun... if you take all the bad dreams for yourself, there won't be any left for everyone else... It is bad luck to be so selfish, don't you know?"

* * *

_It's warm... for October. _Greece thinks idly, staring at the twilight through the wide, wood-cut window in Japan's bedroom. The trees in the yard are beginning to don their autumn colors, he can even see that some leaves flutter off in the breeze. In only a few weeks the trees will shed their glorious hues and become the naked skeletons of winter; such, of course, is the cycle of life.

It is, and always has been, refreshingly peaceful and quiet in Japan's rural home. The two decided to spend a little more time there before the baby, around whose birth they would move, more-or-less permanently, into Greece's house. Of course, Kiku would take frequent trips to his home, but for the duration of the time when the baby would be too young to take confidently on an airplane, they'd stay mostly in Greece.

However, at that moment Heracles wonders how the other could even _bear _to leave this house. The air is crisp and cool with an early sampling of winter; as the late evening winds blow through, the sound of chimes and paper rustling almost blocks out the sound of Kiku's steady breathing, as he naps for what has to be about the fourth time that day. Everything smells good and sharp and fresh, like green tea-scented incense, fresh-cut wood and clean air.

Rubbing the head of a particularly affectionate cat, Greece sits there contentedly, further pondering just what exactly they'll both be giving up in making the decision to keep, and raise, the baby. Now he, for one, doesn't have much to lose; though he appreciated the carefree lifestyle he had, he's always loved kids and adored the idea of starting a family of some sort, no matter the impossibility.

Though he'd never once planned for anything like this, he is more than happy to accept Kiku into his life, and, of course, the little one too. When he thinks of all the things they will do (as a _family!_) he smiles with the lilt of childish excitement that has, as of late, become a common part of his face.

There will be going out on the boat, swimming and playing in the ocean, seeing ruins and temples and cities over and over again, every year; celebrating holidays and observing traditions unique to each parent's culture, blending the pure Western simplicity and pure Eastern complexity into one home, one life, shared by three.

He wonders, too, if maybe he and Kiku might get married someday. Despite their whole situation, nobody seems to be rushing them into marriage, as they likely would be if the two were humans. Marriage for love (or honor) between nations is a simply shocking sort of thing; when you live forever, there's too much time to change your mind, too much time to get tired of the one you loved with such a passion just thirty years before.

The thought of marriage, though ... it is endlessly pleasant, a silly indulgence Greece delves into often. Especially when it includes Japan playing the wife ...

"A-ano..." the sound of a word caught in Japan's passing yawn effectively snaps Greece out of his thoughts and back to the living world. They're sitting on Kiku's bed, books and papers and all sorts of other things messily heaped around them; when Kiku fell asleep, Heracles had cleared everything out of the way and made sure he had a pillow under his head and an afghan over his small, curled-in frame.

"Kalispera, Kiku." he greets softly, smiling over at him when he offers a sheepish sort of apology for 'rudely falling asleep, I just ... did not get any sleep last night'.

After a few more minutes of stretching and belly-rubbing and general waking up, Japan sits up and looks over at Greece, who blinks and tilts his head expectantly. "Hmm... what were we discussing before?"

"Nothing important, really." he says, shrugging, before he remembers something: "Though, you mentioned wanting to finally settle a name. You said you had an idea ... ?"

Kiku nods thoughtfully. "Well, I do, but I would like to hear your ideas first, if you have any." He prompts politely after a moment, obviously holding back the excitement of having a good name in mind.

Greece takes no time to ponder the thought that instantly springs to mind. "I like Poseidon."

"... a - ano ... Poseidon?"

"Yes." he says, chipper, "it's an honorable name! I mean ... to be named for the great god of the sea ... I think it'd fit rather nicely."

Once he sees that Kiku has the look on his face he often does when dealing with idiots or foreigners - the one where he is honestly trying hard not to say no outright, or for that matter, anything rude or insulting at all - Heracles knows that the name is a lost cause.

* * *

Three hours later, the two have finally settled on a (tentative) name. The process of it, of course, was not without disagreements and arguing - although that can't be named so; when one is with Kiku, it isn't so much 'arguing' as it is 'being told no in a surprising variety of ways and finally giving up ten minutes later'.

Sitting quite happily in the snug warmth of Greece's lap, Japan turns to look at him: "are you sure you're happy with him just taking your surname? I ... _suppose _... we could make Poseidon work..."

"Mmm..." Heracles hums, a sound bordering on a purr - he pretends to think about it for a moment, before answering with a kiss to the top of Kiku's head. "No ... i'm happy with what we chose. Anything for you, Kiku ... mou."

* * *

Like ducks in a long neat row stood Greece, both Italy brothers, Spain, Belgium, America, Candia (that _was _his name, right?), France, and Vietnam.

"So..." Greece trailed off, looking at the small army that had apparently been enlisted to help finish the nursery once and for all, back to the walls that they were intent on painting that day.

The samples on the wall had grown from three colors to a splotchy mess of ten. There was blue, white, green, orange, red, gold, _American _blue, brown, pink and a much deeper shade of green than the first. Each nation had contributed their own favorite and now, the big question was which, exactly, to paint the walls with.

"What does em Kiku think?" Vietnam asked after a moment, leaning forward to look over at Greece. He, in turn, shrugged a little: "he said that he trusts me to make sure it'll turn out alright. He's out, at the moment ... Visiting the neighbors, I think."

"So it's all up to us?" America, in his excitement, elbowed his brother in the face - the Canadian simply sighed and ducked away to fetch a towel for himself, before his nose dripped blood everywhere. "Well, everyone, let's grab _my _blue, and get paintin'!"

"I beg your pardon, America!" France sniffed, pointing to the pink-red shade he'd chosen. "Not everyone _likes _the color you chose. I, for one, believe that it is tacky and too bright. An infant would not tolerate such an ugly color on the walls of his room!"

"Babies don't exactly care about that sort of thing..." Vietnam noted dryly, giving France a look that was a non-physical knee in the gut.

"What about green? Ve! It's a nice color!"

"Nobody likes your retarded _green, _Veneciano."

Spain chuckled, and would have given Lovi an enthusiastic, 'you're so cuuute!' hug if a hand was immediately not smashed into his face first. "How about red? Red's the color of tomatoes! And you like those, right, Romanito?"

"Brown's nice and neutral, I think..." Canada mumbled, back to the line of now bickering nations, a towel pressed to his nose.

"_NO! _See, everyone? My blue's the way to go!" America insisted, dipping a brush he'd filched and sloppily applying the pain all over the wall. "He'll think _justice! Freedom! Liberty!"_

France, who seemed to have gotten an idea, grabbed a brush for himself and spread the paint _he _wanted over a blank spot in the wall. "I insist that what you have chosen is _not _an appropriate shade, America!"

"Yeah, but ... At least it's not _gay!_"

"Pink is for everyone!"

"Not for ... ... _not gay _people!"

In the span of their little argument, Spain had pulled on a glove and dipped his hand in the can of red, and was smearing it all over a spot on the wall - Belgium followed his lead with the shade of yellow she had particularly liked.

"Ve!" Italy cried, giggling. With cupped hands he carefully ladled up a half-handful of paint and tossed it at the wall, managing to splatter the green all over America, Canada, and Vietnam's heads in the process.

"Let's paint his world with our love, everyone!"

* * *

"Well, I think it looks good." Greece, fists on his hips, nodded proudly at the finished product of two days of work and effort.

Kiku was too busy staring to really acknowledge the comment. The nursery really did look good; the furniture was simple but beautiful, and with Belgium and Vietnam's help it was all organized perfectly, satisfying the motherly need for order that had recently been consuming Japan's brain.

What stood out, though, and what he was staring at, was the paint on the walls. Only one had color, the rest were the creamy off-white he himself had preferred, a gesture he somehow found sweet.

The wall that _had _the color was insane, splotchy and messy, the lovechild of an orgy of oddly-colored rainbows. It was obvious who had applied which color, and how - the red, Spain's, was everywhere, but mostly by Romano's, the orange. The deep green of his elder sister was always trailed by the pink of France's, and the light green of Italy was simply everywhere, never choosing favorites.

"And there, on the ceiling... everyone signed." Heracles pointed up, having finally noticed exactly what Kiku was looking at, and Japan saw the nine handprints that were up there - one in each color that was splattered all over the one wall.

"Well..." he sighed, after a moment - Greece would have gotten worried, had a smile not slid onto his face."It certainly is ... unique ... I like it. I really do..."

As a sort of afterthought, Kiku leaned over to hug Heracles quickly; maybe he was even ready to give him a kiss on the cheek without blushing with the scandal of it. He _had _put forth so much effort, after all...

As he did so, though, in an instant he was wound up in the other's arms. As Greece murmured to him softly, he caught himself thinking - _I could get used to this._

* * *

That night, impossibly, Greece couldn't get to sleep. He tried everything - willing the sleep to come, trying to find where it was, tucked deep within him, getting some warm milk, petting a cat, counting goats... but it refused to come to him. Giving up, he lay restlessly in bed, trying to replicate the breathing of sleep, hoping that he could fool himself into it.

Japan, too, seemed to have the same problem, but at least it was not a highly unusual event. When the time hovered around midnight, he had finally stopped trying and pushed himself up to sitting, a position that was a little more comfortable than lying down, what with the baby moving about excitedly and all. He was looking thoughtfully at Greece when he noticed that the other was not stone-still and breathing peacefully, as he should have been.

"Hera-kun...?" Kiku asked softly, hesitating to do so. What if he woke him up?

However, such was not a problem. When prompted, Heracles slowly turned his head and stared back for a moment, mumbling something about not being able to catch sleep. Kiku chuckled, reaching forward to brush his hands through the other's curls, like one would do to a cat.

And so, the two spent the rest of the night not sleeping, but simply basking in each other's presence (as per usual). Kiku would listen, enraptured, as Heracles told him stories of his mother, of the Gods and mortals and their wacky adventures; he had a way of telling stories, the way of a fortuneteller, a father. In turn Japan wove a world of his own, all the while delighted by the entranced look in the other's eyes.

After they ran out of words and the ability to form complete thought; after they took a walk out to a place where you could see the lights of the town and the marina below, and had stood there for a while, just watching; after they had milk and ate crackers and feta cheese by candlelight because the light in the kitchen had burned out; they lay together in the bed, being nursed to sleep by the nighttime sounds just outside Greece's window.

Much like when they lay together the night in which they'd decided to embark on this adventure together, they were spooning, Heracles' arms wrapped around the other, his hands on his belly - though now, it was quite a bit more prominent than it was back then. Both were tired, exhausted really, but they couldn't fall asleep, as if something was honestly trying to keep them from sleep.

After a bit, Greece spoke up, his voice gravelly. "Are you happy here, Kiku?"

The other hummed, in his state completely forgetting about the walls of privacy and manners and other such things that would normally have kept him from saying anything.

"It... this is different, that is certain. But it ... is not a _bad _difference. I am a bit nervous, yes, and a bit intimidated... A part of me misses my life as it was... but another part of me says that this is right. No matter what, though, I have a feeling ... no, I _am _glad to be here, mostly ..." he yawned then, and continued very softly: "because of you, Heracles."


	10. Chapter 10

November at Greece's home blew in with violent gusts of rain and wind, sending the cats running for dry land and our two particular lovebirds deep into his house, under blankets, lying for hours as Heracles felt the baby kick and they listened to the constant drone of the rain on the roof, the waves in the faraway bay. It didn't matter whether it was day or night, they slept and kept each other awake and roamed around anyway, no matter the hour. The sky was dark and pearly all the time. They couldn't see the stars for how heavy the rain fell.

They ate whatever they could find in the cupboard, because Heracles couldn't drive to the market in such awful weather and Kiku couldn't fit properly behind the steering wheel. They went outside only to run to the safety of the neighbor's homes, where they were always greeted with well-wishes, steaming plates of food and young nieces clamoring to get a feel at their odd new friend's tummy. Heracles had explained to Kiku later - _I've known their families for generations, they know all about me. I just told them that you being able to get pregnant is a part of who we are. And... For the record, they like you a lot. _

It was a dark and stormy night when Greece finally realized that he was in love.

* * *

Before all of that, however, the weather was warm and humid as usual, if not for the muted bite of autumn chill in the air. Japan was out in the garden - if you could call it that.

Though Greece put forth a surprising amount of work into it, the scattered plots of dirt encased by stone and other junk too big to drag into the house made it less of a garden, more like a very colorful, surprisingly organic backyard 'space'. He liked flowers and general pretty things more than vegetables, preferring that everything just grow as it grows rather than bothering with much work. The only food-producing plants he tended were tomatoes, and even then the harvest was always small.

Surprisingly, Japan seemed to like it quite a bit, often spending hours outside wandering around, Pochi-kun following loyally at his heels. Occasionally he would work out there, in a sort of peace-induced trance deadheading flowers or digging out weeds. When Greece joined him they worked together in a simple harmonic silence, punctuated by the sounds of birds and, when they were _very lucky_, the knocks of unexpected visitors.

They had been doing just that - snipping off the crusty remains of once-beautiful heliotrope flowers - when the usual few knocks on the door and then yelling as he barged in made America's presence obvious. Greece and Japan had just looked at each other, sighs in their eyes - _who goes to entertain him now? _

After a moment of intense optical debate, Heracles gave up and stood, brushing the dirt off of his pants and heading back into the house; he called for Alfred once and found him in the kitchen, raiding the fridge.

"Geez, dude! Where's all the _good _food?" he whined, shutting the fridge and heading for the cabinet. After a minute of searching, apparently finding nothing there either, he turned and happened to glance at the dishes in the sink; he stared incredulously.

_Undone dishes._

In _Japan's home._

"Whoa! What's _wrong _with him? I thought being preggo would make him _want _to do dishes!"

Greece shrugged, idly wondering that himself. "He says that he's too tired... I don't blame him, really... And, well, I don't really like doing that sort of thing... _Cleaning." _He bit out the last word in the exact same way a teenager would when saying _school._

"Huh." America then planted his hands on his hips as he looked around at the slight clutter, some sort of American Enthusiasm For Work leaking through the shield of laziness and unproductive 'heroism' he was so famous for.

The enthusiasm wasa brand of attitude and work ethic that was seen during only dire times... and _maybe_ when something was in it for him. Alfred was known for being an utter _teenager _when faced with work he didn't want to do, often never doing it and writing off any and all importance with a nonchalant - "it'll be _fiiine." _

"Well, if he's too tired and, uh, pregnant to do anything, then let's do it for him! Train you to be a husband!" America flashed his dazzling smile before it fell just a bit.

"... Do you have an apron I could borrow?"

* * *

"I don't know how you rope me into these things..." Greece muttered, scrubbing at dishes while his companion took them to be dried and put away. They'd already finished tidying the kitchen; the whole time Heracles swore and dropped passive aggressive comments under his breath.

Alfred smiled wordlessly, glancing briefly out the window over the sink. Through it, they could see a glimpse of Japan, still working calmly, obviously relieved to be free of any social obligation.

They finished washing the dishes in partial silence - to Greece it was nice and relaxing, to America, uneasy and forced - before the younger nation spoke up.

"So, what're you guys gonna do once he pops?"

"Oh..." Greece hummed, glancing up through the window himself. "I don't know. Probably live together for a while... while the baby is still young... I mean, I'd love to be with him for... as long as possible, forever even, but I don't know if he would be comfortable with that."

"WOAH." America interrupted very suddenly, surprise scribbled all over his face. "What're you _saying_, you don't know?"

"Hmmm?"

Giving Heracles the look he did whenever someone tried to explain that Austria _wasn't _by New Zealand (and the landmass about him was called 'Canada'), Alfred pressed on: "he loves you! _Adores _you, even! Geez! It's so obvious, even Tony could see it, and ... and even _me! _Otherwise he wouldn't even be here! Dude. Seriously?"

Greece blinked; blinked, and blinked again, the shadowy full feeling of a _mood _coming over him slowly, like storm clouds settling over an open plain. It was sure to be an afternoon of reclusion and thought.

"You don't say..." he murmured airily, already dipping back into the rooms of brooding and consideration in his mind, those that his real home so closely mirrored.

* * *

For someone so carefully introspective, insightful and observant, a surprising amount of things happened to pass right over Greece's head, some never even registering at all. While pondering the beauty of the color green, he wouldn't even notice that the leaf was poisonous, or not a leaf at all; he could be sitting at church and admiring the beauty of a stained glass window, not once noticing when he was supposed to stand or lean in for prayer or really, anything else.

However common and inconvenient the bouts of deep pondering and wonder were, he had always trusted that he'd pick up on all the big things as needed. And he did, master of observation he was - nobody went through a breakup or got a handjob under the table at a meeting without Heracles noticing. If only in passing, though; rarely, if ever, did he actually _care _enough to remember such information actively. Years take a toll on the brain, even one of a nation.

Japan, of course, proved once again to be the only exception to the stone-set rule.

Nuances and subtleties of Kiku's personality were like gems buried in the ground, always prizes when found. Over the many years of their relationship, Heracles was fairly sure that he knew more about the other than anyone else - such information like where he was ticklish or how he liked to be kissed, especially.

Who else, though, knew that his passions for anime and manga could run so high as to keep him up for weeks, as he waited for the next episode (or chapter)? That he hid erotic manga next to books on the history of Islam and novels about women getting married; that he could work himself up to _crying _over something as small as a cockroach?

In general, too, nobody else was as good as Greece at reading Japan's emotions. Even the slightest tilt of an eyebrow or stiffness of the spine could mean a world of difference, the dividing line between annoyance and discomfort.

Something so big as love could be communicated simply; how long Kiku's hands would linger on Greece's own, the way he looked at him, how often and how genuinely he smiled. At least, that was the plan, _that_ was the mathematical formula.

* * *

Greece hated grocery shopping, he _really_ did.

Normally, he had all the time he wanted, to chat and flirt with market keepers; when he did, it was always more about socializing with pleasant citizens than spending more money he didn't have on food he didn't _really _need (however much he loved it). Today, though, Japan had sent him out with a budget, list, and time limit; he'd professed that he would have to get used to doing such things quickly, in order to come back and help again with the baby as quickly as possible...

Heracles staggered through the front door with barely five minutes to spare, carrying the bags so precariously only someone such as he, so used to the floorplan of his home, would be able to deposit them safely on the counter. He did so, stopping to look around for the other. Kiku nowhere to be seen, his mood fell a little; Heracles was actually looking forward to getting the job done right, like a child would look forward to showing their mother some gorgeous art they had made.

Further investigation showed that Japan was in his - _their _- room, sitting seiza on the bed, a dazed, completely exhausted look on his face. He was staring at the wall, apparently trying to pull his whole self back into the waking world; he had to have fallen asleep sitting up. All around him were neatly folded piles of laundry, organized to his perfectionistic and near-obsessive tastes.

"Ah... Kiku?" Greece asked, wondering if maybe he could get him to take a quick nap together - in the state he was in, he would agree to do virtually _anything. _

- Ah, too bad! As if a spell was broken upon hearing his name, Japan snapped to attention, awake and alert. After taking a few seconds to gather his wits and bearings, he looked around at the mess of clothing, to Pochi-kun (who was keeping watch, perched on a stack of t-shirts), and finally to Greece, who hovered hesitatingly at the doorway.

A small, gentle smile flitted across his face, before he could stop it. Rubbing his eye, he yawned: "Ah, good afternoon, Heracles... I apologize; I must have accidentally fallen asleep... again… What time is it?"

Nodding a 'good afternoon' back as he stepped into the room, a quick glance at the clock told that it was about four o' clock - Heracles repeated as much.

"I know it's late, but... would you like to have lunch, and siesta, Kiku?" he asked softly, extending a hand, figuring that now was as good a time as ever to test what he knew, somewhere inside, was true.

As the cool, slim hand slowly slid into his, Heracles smiled; it was the feeling of completion, the last puzzle piece fitting snugly into place. Now all he had to do was step back and get a good look at the whole picture.

* * *

It was true.

As mind-boggling as America being _right _about something (for once) was, after much careful thought and consideration, Greece finally just _knew_ that he was in love.

It wasn't a completely mind blowing realization; more like the completion again, the accomplishment of discovering something he had known all along. Love was tucked into his slow courting, his patience; his adoration of Japan's quirks and flaws and smile and scars and hair and everything possible, everything about and related to him. That's what Heracles' love was. Acceptance and adoration, completely and totally.

_I love Honda Kiku, _to him, was as natural (albeit thrilling) to think as _I hate Turkey. _It was just _right. _

Maybe he was _born_ to love Japan. His mother had told him, long ago, that he, too, had been split as a soul by the frightened Zeus. Like the humans, he was destined to wander the earth alone, in search of his other half. And, finally, he had found his. The juxtaposition was perfect, they fit together in each other's curves and bends like cats over a heater in the middle of December.

_I like doing things slowly, spontaneously. He strongly prefers plans and routines._

_I'm not very responsible with ... anything, really. He would die if he were to miss an appointment, payment, or obligation._

_I have blue eyes, he has dark; my skin is tanned, his is white. He is small and I am not. _

_And now, _Heracles thought with a smile, _we're bound forever. _

* * *

One particularly warm night they lay awake, as they did sometimes, listening to the radio as it cut in and out, reporting news of general misfortune. More than ever Greece felt the ache of it in his bones; as if it would alleviate the pressure of his people suffering, he got up and switched the station to something that sung out classical music in a scratchy, blipping voice. The familiarity was wonderful, comforting.

"H-Heracles..." Japan murmured, as soon as he felt the depression of the Greek's weight again in the mattress.

"If it isn't too much trouble, could you get me some water? And perhaps... something to eat? While you're up..."

Greece had nodded and headed into the other room to find whatever he could. Two glasses of water, some crackers and a jar of olives whose age he had no idea of was all he could scavenge, but he figured that it was good enough. Kiku wouldn't complain, anyway; they could always go to the 24-hour convenience store, if need be.

When he returned, however, the other was sitting up against the headboard, pink face screaming _internal debate! _Deciding it'd be best to ask later, Heracles sat on the bed and offered what he had, a humble tilt to his head. After profuse thanks Kiku devoured it all, not even stopping to let Greece have some; the baby demanded he eat, and hell, it demanded he eat _everything. Right now._

"So..." Greece began after a moment, quirking his lips as he thought how best to ask it - before he could go in and ask what he'd been thinking about, though, he inevitably re - noticed Japan's belly.

The familiar feeling of overwhelming love and wonder washing over him, he leaned forward, murmuring a quick apology before he lifted the hem of Kiku's t-shirt. Underneath it, his skin was warm and pale and completely miraculous, and under _that_...

Over his belly button a soft, loving kiss was pressed. "Your mama is so funny..." he murmured into the skin, as Japan berated himself for being such a coward for not saying what he so obviously needed to the most.

* * *

A dark and stormy night, and once and for all, it was love; love for words, for staying together, into some future that maybe resembled 'forever'.

Greece had been out all day at a long, mind-bogglingly _boring_ meeting with England. As he tried not to stare at all of the specimens of insects from around the world that were hung on the wall, he and Arthur had cut a deal, of sorts.

_Whatever bad comes of this, you take responsibility. No exceptions, no matter what. _Figuring that it was fair enough, Greece agreed, leaving calmly with two green eyes boring holes into his back.

Attempting not to get soaked in the sudden downpour that Zeus decided to release that evening, Heracles did his best to dash quickly as possible from the car to the house. It was in vain, though; he still had to dry his hair and strip naked of his completely soaked clothing. At the last minute he grabbed and put on a pair of boxers he found in the basket of clothes that had yet to be folded, knowing that Kiku wouldn't appreciate him walking in completely naked, and sort of damp. Wearing only this, he yawned and wandered up the stairs and into the bedroom, the idea of getting some sleep a stronger pull than anything else.

Japan was in there, already asleep. The light was on, however, and the radio was too. He must have passed out again... he was becoming more and prone to doing so, as the baby got heavier and lower, and had more fun wriggling around as much as possible at normal sleeping times.

He was about to switch off the light when he noticed something. Kiku was wearing one of Heracles' bigger t-shirts, one hand up to bring the collar closer to his nose. The expression on his face was happy, loving even, completely unguarded and uncensored. Perfect.

Staring almost incredulously, Greece inched up to the bed - Japan didn't wake up, and probably wouldn't. As soon, though, as he sat down and attempted to arrange himself comfortably around the other, said man's eyes twitched and eventually fluttered open. He whispered his name, not realizing what was happening, pinking simply on instinct.

Confident in moving around and rearranging himself now that Kiku was somewhat awake, Heracles cuddled in and wrapped his arms around him as best as he could, pressing a kiss to the middle of his forehead. There was no hesitation, only what was right.

"Go back to sleep, agapi... have sweet dreams. I love you."

"Oh, hai, I've been..." he stifled a yawn, eyelashes already flicking back together, speech slurred from sleep: "…meaning to tell you... I ... I love you ... too."

His eyes flew open immediately then, his face red and getting darker, bordering on purple; it was so obvious; _did I really just say that? _Was running through his mind, over and over and over and over, unrelenting. In normal circumstances, he probably would have considered seppuku.

Greece, however, just chuckled softly and tightened his hold, murmuring Japan to a state of semi-calm.

"I had a feeling you'd say that."


	11. Chapter 11

Christmas season was supremely stressful, Kiku had deduced many times over in the past month, but especially so when you looked like you were smuggling a beach ball under any of the six shirts (four of them slightly tacky sweaters) that actually _fit_ you.

Thus why, on the day before Christmas Eve, he chose to relax at home instead of go out with Heracles to finish errands, due to some pain and pressure in his back - while he'd been feeling it for days, today it was particularly bad. He ended up not being able to get to sleep at all, and instead tended to Pochi-kun's fur, fed the cats, and folded laundry; just a few of the things he had gradually taken to be a part of his role in their new shared household.

He was fully engrossed with Soul Silver when someone knocked at the door - it turned out to be his eldest sister, Vietnam. She came bearing a large shopping bag over her arm and a smile on her wind-nipped face. On her neck was a green knit scarf that looked _far_ too luxurious to be anything of her own wardrobe. Without question, Kiku knew it was a gift from France; why would she wear something _he_ had given her, though?

"Xin chao!" she greeted before he could complete the thought, fluttering over to the couch with so much uncharacteristic cheer that Japan hesitated to call her by his usual 'Kim-chan' at all. He made room for her, though, sitting up as straight as possible with his legs propped up. With a small measure of regret, he put his game away and launched into the typical pleasantries he used with family.

Though when she sat she patted his knee affectionately and dove into the small talk, he could tell instantly; like everyone else, she was completely enthralled with his belly, and that only.

"So... what's it like?" She asked after a while, voice half-hushed. To a young woman who loved family and children more than anything, to see her _brother_ have both was certainly a tough blow. Taking this into account, Kiku just smiled gently, hands resting nearly atop the perfect curve.

"It is certainly ... challenging. Not only on my body but, well, I have never been stared at so much in my life. But ... I would not do anything differently. It is wonderful, even if it comes at a price."

Kim nodded, a small placid smile on her face. Unlike many before her, she didn't ask to feel, nor did she feel for herself. She kept the small questions running, earning an unspoken word of eternal thanks from Japan.

"Do you think you're ready for a baby?"

Kiku frowned a little, resting his head against the couch. It was a question he (and Heracles) had mused over quite often, but had never really drawn a conclusion to. He was sure he could handle the basic responsibilities; changing diapers, making sure the baby didn't die, et cetera. And Heracles would be wonderful with a baby, too, but...

"We will have to see, I suppose. I already take care of the cats, and Pochi ... I do the laundry, and cook, and clean ... Heracles is excited to be a father, as well ..."

"You do all of the work around the house?" Kim asked, a tight little smile on her face. She looked like she was holding back laughter; as to why, Kiku couldn't tell, so he just nodded with a slight scowl.

"What a housewife!" She exclaimed after a moment, dissolving into the laughter that Japan had not heard for ages. Said man's face flushed bright red instantly; _yes,_ he did the housework, and _yes,_ he was having the child, but ... but!

"I - i ... no, Kim-chan! I ... ... I can't just go from a sophisticated, powerful nation ... to a _housewife_!" He cried in protest, flushing darker as he realized how ridiculous he sounded. His sister just kept laughing until a few minutes later, when she calmed down and finally patted his knee again. The intense scowl he attempted to use as a mask for the embarrassment did nothing but make her smile.

"It's alright, em. You'll be a wonderful housewife and mother. I'm sure Greece agrees, hm?"

Still scowling, biting red, Japan nodded thoughtfully; they kept talking, Vietnam dancing around what she _really_ wanted to say and her brother being glad she managed to keep it inside.

It had been a while since Kiku had spoken with his sister so lightly, and while the sudden change in her mood was a bit disconcerting, he figured it was for her own reasons; he had no reason to pry. He was just happy to see her that way, even was almost glad he'd had a guest, until he heard the shouts from outside the house ... and then ...

"MERRY CHRISTMAS, MOTHERFUCKERS!" someone screamed, bursting in through the door with so much skill and ease, it just had to be America. What was different, and actually startling, was that he led a long line of bag - carrying nations, all of whom were pink-cheeked and laughing. The Christmas cheer that they all radiated was practically visible; Kim seemed suspiciously unsurprised to see them.

Kiku drew immediately into himself, frowning at the crowd that trickled in, unannounced, through his door. He would not be stripped naked this year, thank you.

* * *

They were horrible at meetings, horrible at war. Nations only organized themselves and acted adeptly when there was fighting or nudity involved; even then, though, their work was slow and shoddy at best.

So it is no surprise that the speed and efficiency with which they set up Greece's home for a party simply shocked Kiku into staring, slightly slack-jawed.

Messes were tidied; banners, streamers and mistletoe were all hung carefully, drowning the room in a sea of red, green and white. In the absence of a Christmas tree someone had brought a small white fake one and was decorating it with dirty playing cards, tinsel, and plastic food; the four statuettes of naked women on the mantel of Greece's never-used fireplace were given tiny Santa hats.

Japan himself was given such a hat - he took it off immediately and passed it to France, who slipped it on with a wink and a tip of his glass of champagne. Another thing about nations; they never skimp on the alcohol.

* * *

Two hours.

It took two hours for the house to be completely trashed and for everyone to get smashed out of their minds.

Kiku was half-surprised that Heracles wasn't one of them; while he didn't look or act it, he was quite the party animal, known for knocking back entire bottles of ouzo without much effect. To his credit, he drank a glass or two, but mostly stayed near his love, rubbing his tummy when he could and defending him from anyone who tried to do the same without permission.

Said love stayed on the couch practically the entire time, getting up only to use the restroom and grab some food. Whenever he walked around everyone in his way parted instantly, as if they were the ocean and Japan, Moses. They all stared.

The baby was kicking particularly hard and resting in a new, strange position, probably woken up and excited by the horrible music America played so loudly. It took quite a bit of Kiku's effort not to curl into a ball and attempt to sleep the feeling off. He figured, though, if this was one of his last social gatherings as a free man, he might as well attempt to ... _enjoy_ it.

Enjoy, perhaps, was not the word for it; not for Japan, at least. Nations were stripping and getting all over each other, were launching out of windows and sliding down the stairs in beanbags on dares, were dancing horribly to Lady GaGa and La Roux. To one whose idea of a good time was an evening buried under the blankets watching Highschool of the Dead, it was just a _tad_ bit stressful (and unnecessary).

However, once the most amorous had left (Kiku waved goodbye to his sister, Vietnam, but she had been too distracted attempting to feign off France's kisses as they left to wave back) and a few others had wandered off to terrorize other nations, Japan deemed it safe to get up and did so. Greece was at his side immediately, humming some song and finishing off a glass of champagne.

"Have a good time?" He asked, slurring his words just a bit. Scowling once again, Kiku pushed his face away and just shrugged.

"It was noisy, and everyone was drunk. I do not see what it has to do with Christmas. However... it was ... nice, I suppose. And you?"

Heracles nodded, eyes lidded; he leaned in to kiss Kiku's cheek softly, tugging him into the doorway as he did so. Glad to have something to lean against, Japan had no idea of the mistletoe above them or the sudden stares they attracted as everyone (still mostly conscious) took notice.

"H-hey! They're under the mistletoe!" Spain shouted, pointing at the pair shakily. Romano was tucked under his arm and Belgium was practically attached to Romano; all three of them were drunk off of spiked eggnog and possibly ready to start going at it at any time.

Still others noticed; Lithuania, dressed as a reindeer, and Poland as Sexy Santa, looked up from their little lovefest and grinned lecherously.

"Yeah! Kiss 'em, dude! Be a maaaaan, Herc!" Alfred taunted from where he leaned against the fireplace mantel. His cheek was still red from Belarus' slap. Apparently, she wasn't ready to 'lose the zero and get with a hero' quite yet.

Shrugging with a kind of 'what can you do?' smile on his face, Greece looked to Japan's face for permission, somehow found it, and leaned in to give him a soft kiss. Though at first he was shocked into near-paralysis, Kiku fought the intense urge to run (first apologizing to everyone for the inexcusable display of affection) and started to kiss back just a little.

The pressure in his lower back was starting to get incredibly uncomfortable, Kiku noted in the back of his mind as Heracles managed to deepen the kiss a bit. His hands floated to the other's forearms; he stood up on tiptoes so Greece wouldn't be uncomfortable, leaning down for so long.

From somewhere in the back of the room someone shouted: "Kiku's gonna go into laaaabor, with you two suckin' face like that!"

As laughter rippled around the room and the two pulled away from one another, the sudden tight expression on Kiku's face was concerning enough for Heracles to lean in again to ask what was wrong. Usually Japan took good care of himself, rarely revealing pain or any weakness. But ... the sudden jolt was rather intense; Kiku pulled away from Heracles, gripping his forearm just a bit.

"H - hera ... I think that ... they might have been right ..."

* * *

"STOP HERE!" America screamed, pointing frantically at the hospital entrance. Despite Japan's meek protests, he, Greece, America, Spain, Belgium, Romano, and still others had all crammed into Alfred's giant car for the ride to the hospital. Said ride was absolutely terrifying, considering the fact that it was two in the morning and Greece was actually _trying_ to drive fast.

They got there in record time, though, and with Alfred and Antonio's insistence, everything was set up comfortably and quickly. While Kiku and Heracles stayed in the tiny sterile room, those who had tagged along waited outside.

"Oh God, you guys." America breathed, staring at the others with his wide, sky eyes. "This is so intense."

"Babies~" Spain sang, still swaying and tipsy. The smile on his face was that of pure bliss. "So cute and squishy and wriggly!"

"Make's 'em sound like worms, eh? Little larvae..." Belgium slurred, head dipped below her knees. It was only a matter of time before she either puked or wandered off.

Hungary, soft-eyed, maybe even a little mournful, nodded along. "I want one... Too bad, though. Wonder if it'll be a boy or a girl ~"

"Boy, duh." America said, rolling his eyes. "He's totally gonna be my new best friend. Maybe he'll even be able to catch a baseball, unlike _some_ people..."

(Squished by Spain's weight, Canada let out a meek, unnoticed protest. He wondered why he hadn't gone off with Ukraine for the night after all; maybe it was the hulk of a brother that she had that stopped him. _Again._ Damn. At least the booty parked on his lap wasn't too unpleasant.)

* * *

It's hard to spend seven hours in a hospital with nothing to do but sit and talk and listen to the screams of your friend and the screams of other, strange women. America nearly hyperventilated several times; after wandering just a little too far, Spain was banished to his chair by a blushing but stern young nurse.

Seven hours was all it took and then - they all stood up and cheered and cried and celebrated in every other way as Greece, carrying a blanket-swaddled bundle and obviously holding back emotion himself, stood before them and announced; "I have a son!"


	12. Chapter 12

Look at him, he is beautiful.

Small and pink, the baby is tiny and, to the untrained eye, just like any other infant. To those who know, though, he has his mother's small flat nose and will be dark-skinned when he grows up; the mop of hair on his head, no thicker than fairy floss, is jet black and already starting to curl up in wisps.

Kiku is drained, in every sense of the word. He lies all day in the uncomfortable hospital bed, trying not to move at all. Now, he is staring at the muted news on the tiny TV to pass the time before Heracles arrives, back with some things from home. He is entertained by how the news anchor's mouth moves, like a fish, only with badly dyed hair.

Finally his lover does arrive, and with a slight grin on his face; his hair is mussed from not sleeping for 12 hours straight, but who could blame him for wanting to stay awake? He didn't miss the first time their child's eyes opened - pale blue, a hint of sea green near the pupils, perhaps, and he is proud of that fact.

Kiku nods at him in greeting, the softest, most content little smile on his face. He doesn't even see whatever Heracles carries in his arms and sets down near the door; all he sees is the man who stuck to him through everything. Now, he only sees the man who is lifting their blanketed bundle out of his own little hospital bed, he is the one who is bringing him over.

Haruto Karpouzi, a child of two or so days, is sleeping soundly and will assuredly not wake up upon being moved; he doesn't, as expected, doesn't even twitch or fuss when his mother runs a finger over his hair in order to straighten it up a bit. They are expecting visitors, after all, and everyone must look presentable, especially the little man of honor.

* * *

**Japan: **I am scared, almost, of the enormity of what has just happened, over these past months. Like a battle, everything will reveal its own truth and importance a number of years from now, but it makes me happy to imagine what may be by then, so I will smile and accept all that may come our way. All I know now is that I am swallowed by love, and I am perfectly content to live in it forever.

**Greece: **You don't dwell on the thought of miracles every day. The way I see it, you only think about them - really _think _- when you need one or when one has just been blessed upon you. So here I am, holding my warm, perfect little boy, pondering the miraculous ways of cells dividing to become infants who become, then, the next generation, because for once, I am the receiver and not the wisher.

* * *

Guests arrive steadily; Kiku smiles and accepts congratulations and lets most see and touch, but not hold, Haruto. Heracles just stands by, frowning at those he doesn't quite trust, making conversation and tired merriment with those he does.

England arrives and dismisses the baby as 'seemingly harmless', though he promises to keep tabs on all of them, just in case. Many of those who oppose (or opposed) do not show up but send polite little cards or, most often, nothing at all. Their comments are, assuredly, not missed.

Sweden and Finland, however, send over a box of food; after seeing who it's from Kiku pushes it over to Heracles, who promises to dispose of it quickly.

Their friends, however, flit in and out with warm smiles and well-wishes and the presents that are best for both mother and child, all according to their own national traditions. Vietnam mutters and tucks the baby in, fusses over Kiku and slips him a small handmade carving of a dog. Spain and Romano offer advice and bicker with one another until they are kicked out; they lurk around the cafeteria until they manage to get back in the room with their tails between their legs, promising that they will be quiet.

Belgium brings chocolate and America brings something that looks like a lot of strange foods tossed in together - he calls it a 'casserole', but Kiku doesn't trust him, so he adds it to the pile of disposables.

* * *

It is an exhausting few days and nights, but still those who stuck close to them join Heracles and Kiku for their final night in the hospital. A potluck dinner is thrown together and ten nations cram into the tiny room to enjoy it as much as they can.

They laugh and fall asleep and laugh some more, reminisce and guess at Haruto's wide-open future. They all watch as he sleeps soundly, they coo and giggle at him, comment on how much he looks like his father, those sleepy eyes, that calm stare. They drink wine and tell stories of how they fell in love or almost had children themselves - Vietnam's eyes mist when she starts to talk about her own experiences, but she insists that it's because she's just too happy for her brother.

The night melts away in laughter and tears and secrets that flutter up out into the night sky, free of hundred-year-old hearts, and all set free because of one little accident, one little decision and nine months of stubborn love and tender care.

* * *

**America: **I kinda have a secret. See, I love sitcoms. You know, the kind on ABC Family where there's the laugh track and nobody repeats an outfit ever and everyone looks good all the time, where fights are always resolved within half an hour and nobody really hurts for very long at all. I see the families on the shows - in commercials and magazines too - and they eat dinner together, are witty and open and never, ever awkward. That's all I've ever wanted, a family, with the kid sister and college-age brother and mother serving up a big delicious turkey on Thanksgiving.

I look around this room and everyone looks like shit because it's five AM and we haven't slept much at all, we couldn't even recognize wit if it slapped us all in the face, and there's no turkey to speak of (unless Hungary is hiding it). The only charming one in this whole place is Haruto, and he's sleeping, so what does that have to say about us?

But, I realize, this is my family. This is where I feel the most at home - other than in my awesome country, of course. The only thing that's missing is the laugh track and the tacky sweaters.


End file.
